Completely and Utterly
by Tragic Disposition
Summary: The once great Draco Malfoy finds himself at the door of a certain Gryffindor. How? But more importantly, why? He's been abandoned by his own kind and nobody seems to care. Nobody except her. Hogwarts seems all too claustrophobic when you're trapped there and something's going to give. The question is, what first? His pride or his sanity? RATED M FOR A REASON
1. Walls

**I own nothing at all. JK Rowling owns these magnificent characters. I am merely making them do my bidding.**

**Revised:**

**Chapter 1; Walls**

It was the same cliché beginning. The beginning of a school year. Time for change. The time of our lives. But this year was different. It wasn't the weather nor was it the fact that she was now in her 7th year.

No. It was the students.

Platform 9 ¾ was noisy and filled with people rushing to catch their train and saying goodbye. Hermione was gripping the handle of her luggage cart tightly and she pushed past crowds of people staring at her.

Her hair was tied high up on her head, pushing the long wayward curls away from her collar to reveal a gleaming maroon badge, glinting in the sunlight.

She'd been excited when she'd first received the letter with her Head Girl's badge. Who wouldn't be? However, she soon frowned. Why on earth would she be chosen for Head Girl by the infamous Headmaster Severus Snape? He absolutely detested her. It was as if it was a kind of sick joke.

Hogwarts was only a shadow of its original self, but it was Hogwarts nevertheless. The only structure of normalcy left in her life.

The summer had been lonely and desolate. She remained in her room, letting the walls crumble, her parents gone far away in Australia and with her best friends in constant danger, it was rather hard not to feel completely and utterly helpless. So she remained in the empty house, cold despite the hot summer air.

Without her usual companions, Hermione stood self-consciously to the side alone, as students and worried parents passed.

The students were the same people essentially, but all with ragged and haggard faces, knowledge glinting in their eyes. Knowledge that Hogwarts was no longer safe. Haunted faces of distress in the place of excited expressions.

Yes. The students had definitely changed.

The platform was no longer as crowded as it used to be. It felt empty in comparison, cold empty air filling in the gaps where students and anxious parents used to be.

Nobody stepped up to speak to her. Not one. They all regarded her with distrust. Nobody wished to befriend an enemy of Voldemort when a Death Eater was Headmaster. Nobody was _that_ stupid. The Prophet named Severus Snape "a brilliant addition to the education system." She hoped to hope she would be seeing as little of the filthy traitor as possible.

She found a few Slytherins throwing her scathing looks now and again, leering grins on their faces.

"Cowards," she muttered to herself but all Hermione could think of was where Harry and Ron were. They told her to stay at school. Told her, no _persuaded her_, no _made her._ They told her she would be far more useful with unlimited library resources but all she could think of was how the pair were currently trampling around London unknowing of Death Eaters right at their heels.

Closing her eyes, she pinched the bridge of her nose. She needed to quit worrying. And apparently she wasn't the only one without parents by her side. She spotted a slightly dishevelled ginger head pushing through the crowd.

"Hermione, thank god," she gushed as she finally reached her.

"Ginny," Hermione smiled as relaxed as she could.

"Oh Hermione, it's been a nightmare. Molly's gone bat shit crazy once we realised Ron was missing. You should've heard her, nearly burst half our eardrums."

Hermione smiled. She could do this. She needed to do this. Hogwarts was the only constant left in her life after she'd made her parents leave. Closing her eyes for a second, gathering her thoughts, putting back on the mask of complete reassurance, golden girl, time to shine.

"Well you should've seen the house, it was a complete mess with Mom and Dad on holidays especially with Crookshanks hiding everywhere." It wasn't a complete lie, her parents were technically on holidays, just without her and with no recollection of _her_ and she'd been too out of it to even notice Crookshanks much.

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><p>.<p>

Fuck

Fuck

Fuck

Fuck

Fuck

Draco bit the inside of his lip painfully as to not retort to the pathetic, half-assed attempts at insults. He didn't know how most of them had even passed their OWL's in the first place.

Fuck this shit.

Why the fuck was he even here?

Oh he knew, so that dear old Professor Snape as well as the rest of the world could keep an eye on him.

Nobody gave one fuck about him anymore and he didn't give one fuck back.

His fellow peers hating him were one thing, but an entire different thing was his parents.

His pitiable, sorry excuses for parents were off bowing to the very dirty ground of that monster without a single thought of their own son, they were only off the save their own backs.

And now that they'd turned their back on him, he was back to this hole of a place, trying not be noticed, not to speak unless spoken to, not to draw attention so that the Dark Lord would come back and finish his sorry ass.

Yes, Draco knew that vile creature was weak, but as weak as he was, he wouldn't give one second of thought before he would be after Draco to finish the pathetic excuse of a human being be minute he regained strength.

Bloody hell was his life in shambles. Pureblood bullshit. The epitome of everything bad that could possibly happen and all he wanted to do was walk away, hide and forget everything.

Forget the mistakes, forget the memories, forget the long nights of torturous screams either from the dungeons of his Manor or from his very lips.

But predictably, he wasn't allowed to forget. He was forced to come to the very place that held all the memories. The way he screwed up.

The Gryffindor's narrowed their eyes at him distrustingly while the Slytherin's made no secret of how he did not represent their house.

He wondered, maybe if he killed Dumbledore that night. Would things be different? Would he be back here or would he be off serving Voldemort? He wondered if he had a choice, would he go back and kill Dumbledore?

Would it change anything? Would he still be the pathetic mess he was right now? Drinking uncontrollably straight out of the bottle of Firewhisky day and night?

Draco had nothing. Draco Malfoy _was_ nothing.

And boy, would he never forget it.

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She tugged along a hazy Ginny through the empty by comparison scarlet red train that was the Hogwarts Express.

Hermione pulled open the last compartment door of the last carriage, finding one figure slumped in the corner with the Hogwarts school robe thrown haphazardly over them, obscuring their face. She shrugged and entered with Ginny following close in suit.

Sitting opposite the slumped figure, Hermione rested her head on the cool glass, looking out to the platform, of huddled loving parents waving their children goodbye. It seemed almost trivial to be returning back to Hogwarts at the state of things, these were probably the last few years some of her classmates would see with the upcoming war, they should be spending as much time as physically possible with their loved ones. But some just needed something to make it seem like everything was going to be fine.

Hogwarts was a solace, but not anymore, not with the grounds crawling with evil and dementors.

However, her and her peers were still on the train ride, and on the journey, there is always room for hope, that Hogwarts would still be the same as it always was.

The rest of the trip passed in amiable silence and they zoomed across fields of green and meadows of cattle. Hermione respected the other girl's privacy and as did Ginny. The only interruption was the shifting of the figure in the corner.

A small announcement was made that they were fast approaching Hogwarts so the two of them got up, reached for their suitcases and quickly slipped into their robes.

Hermione thought she heard a ghostly murmur and a thump behind her and she quickly pulled her robes tightly around her, turning around to find the robe slipping off and a rather tousled platinum blonde muttering obscenities underneath.

Ginny widened her eyes and took a few steps back as Hermione approached him.

"Malfoy?" She murmured.

Draco looked up to find the Gryffindor staring at her curiously, her hair barely grazing the side of his face as he took in a sharp gasp of air. Her hair smelt vaguely of the flowers that bloomed in winter at the Manor by some magical metamorphosis. The flowers in the Manor were far gone by now, an unsettling chill setting over the large expanse of land. He noticed the slight drop of one side on her school skirt and smirked. "You're skirt's still undone, Granger," he drawled.

She quickly pulled away, blushing, her hands fumbling at the zip of her skirt and pulling her black school robe even tighter around her as he eyed her intently. "I'm glad you enjoyed the show, Mr Malfoy," she hissed, menacingly.

"Believe me, I did," he chuckled, raising an eyebrow leeringly. "Maybe you could give me another."

She backed away immediately at his suggestion, cheeks flushing a pale pink as she stood by Ginny. "You're disgusting."

Draco took amusement from her flustered state, observing the way her shoulders would raise marginally as if for protection.

Picking himself up gingerly from the floor, he stretched his fingers that had been wrapped tightly around his wand whilst he rested, his head still pounding from the nightmares but he refused to let the ignorant mudblood see his weaknesses.

Lovely Granger, life must be a walk in the park for her wouldn't it? Everyone worshipped the ground at her feet and nobody questioned her behaviour.

_Filthy_, he thought to himself.

Grabbing his robe, he smoothed out the creases before slipping into it, turning to the windows.

As he did so, Hermione noticed a glimmer of something pinned proudly onto his chest quite not unlike the one on hers at the current time.

"You?"

Draco turned around expectantly. "Don't be rude, Granger. I what?"

"Head Boy?"

"Unless you're blind, Granger, yes indeed I am."

"But he's got to be absolutely mad!" She exclaimed to herself. "Please tell me you're joking. Is this some sick joke of yours and Professor Snape's? I don't want to deal with you. _Especially _not this year."

"Well tough luck, sugar, you're going to have to," he snapped, hand gripping his wand tightly. "And that's _Headmaster_ Snape."

"We're going to have so much fun," she rolled her eyes sarcastically. "I can't do this."

He raised an eyebrow. "As much as I would like to know the inner workings of your complex mind, I have other things to worry about," he pocketed his wand. "But just for a second, humour me, Granger. Why can't you _do this?_ I mean, Hermione Granger, you've been practically begging for Head Girl since you were born. I thought you had more nerve than a coward who can't even deal with one arrogant Slytherin?"

"Why don't you tell me, Malfoy, I thought you were smart. Why are you Head Boy again? Oh yes. Severus Snape. How much do I like traitors? Not very much at all."

Draco Malfoy narrowed his eyes. The ignorant witch really did understand nothing did she? "Severus is no traitor," he murmured, barely above a whisper.

"Keep thinking that. Goodbye, Malfoy," she said with finality as the Hogwarts express slowed to a stop, pulling Ginny out with her, leaving Draco staring wordlessly at where she stood, a whiff of the winter-blooming flowers at his wake.

As she walked down the aisle between compartments with Ginny leading the way, Hermione sighed to herself. She didn't want any attention this year. She wanted this year to pass without notice. She wanted to forget the fact that Harry and Ron had simply left her behind with nothing to hold onto.

And that was how it started. The perfect cliché beginning.

Until the walls began to crumble.

**AN: I'm restarting this story as promised. I've grown a lot since I've first written this, and I still love the idea of 'completely and utterly' but I'm going to be changing it a bit. You may like it, you may not. But I still hope you stick with me. Please tell me what you think.**

**I've got chapters 2-8 already written so this is how it goes. Review a lot, and I'll post faster, review a little, I'll post them slowly.**

**PS. This pretty much follows the story of Harry Potter with a few changes you will see soon. Hermione is allowed into Hogwarts because the Muggleborn Collection Law hasn't been passed yet, but it will be soon.**


	2. Nightmares

****DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING. I am merely manipulating these lovely characters made by JK Rowling to do my bidding.****

**Chapter 2; Nightmares**

Hermione walked silently into the chattering Great Hall, trying to forget to the significant absence of her two best friends and to pay attention to Ginny who seemed at loss of what to do. Hermione took Ginny by the shoulder and lead her to the Gryffindor table.

Ginny Weasley was not the same young woman she was a year ago. She would often become silent for hours at a time and suddenly burst out in nonsensical sentences quite resembling Lavender that barely made sense. Her cheeks were hollowed, her once bright blue eyes dull and the bags under her eyes seemed like bruises.

They took their seats opposite Dean and Seamus as they cast furtive glances at the two of them.

"What happened?" Seamus blurted.

"Nothing?" Hermione answered, self consciously, reaching up to pat down her hair.

"Tactless Seamus." Dean said to Seamus and turned to Hermione, "You look good."

Hermione's eyes widened and smiled as best she could as Ginny absentmindedly played with her empty goblet. She struggled to formulate a response and thankfully a hush was called upon the room as the notorious new Headmaster stood up.

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On the other side of the grand Great Hall, Draco Malfoy was staring intently at his empty golden rimmed plate and refusing to look up, ignoring the calculating beetle eyed gaze that was boring into his skull.

"Welcome, students of Hogwarts. I will remind you that the Forbidden Forest is strictly_ forbidden_ and off limits to _all_ students unless you all wish to endure a_ year's_ worth of detention lest you survive your evident gruesome death."

Draco's eyes closed as the plate before him grew hazy. His hands raked through his already tousled hair, paying no attention to the hostile glares thrown his way. They were nothing, none of them gave a shit about him and he didn't give a shit about what they thought in the first place.

He was what they called, the blemish of the death eaters, and a figurine of what _not_ to be.

Voldemort, fucking Voldemort. He didn't even give one fuck about saying his name anymore, no one should give that sorry excuse to be a man any respect whatsoever. And yet, here he was. Draco Malfoy, back at Hogwarts, back under the care of his godfather because there was noone else that would accept him.

He was banished by death eaters and purebloods alike for unable to kill the muggle lover Dumbledore but he was hated by blood traitors and muggleborns because they blamed him for the death of their beloved headmaster. Fucking hypocrites and cowards. They separated children from their parents because they thought they're doing a good deed? They scorn and hate those who have no choice but to follow the Dark Lord's orders?

He briefly lifted up his head and immediately met the gaze of his godfather. He should've known better to look up.

He should be lucky that he had escaped. He'd spent most of the summer hiding out in various locations that his godfather took him to until the death eaters claimed him too much of a coward to matter. They were the fucking cowards, grovelling to that filthy _half_ blood who was and not even human enough to spare his own _father, _muggle or not.

But the biggest surprise was his godfather. Who would've known, that dear old Severus Snape, the Dark Lord's _right hand man_ had such a soft spot for Lily Potter?

Well, his head was up now, he might as well look around. He could feel the gaze of those black beetle eyes following his as he surveyed the room. Draco was surrounded by first years, most too scared to even talk in his presence in case they were marked as "a blemish to the death eaters" with him. He quickly spotted the dark curls of the Gryffindor who was biting her lip anxiously as two idiots whispered to her across the table. He felt Severus' gaze shift and smirked as Draco watched his godfather shoot a deathly glare to the pair.

He saw her eyes lift up from her hands for a fraction of a second to connect with his and his breath was knocked out of his lungs. Her bright chocolate eyes looked curiously at his as his heart jumped up his throat. He blinked rapidly as he surveyed her, long dark lashes that tickled her cheekbones, golden brown orbs that glittered with far more than just knowledge, eyes that knew more than they let on. He shook his head deliberately and looked purposefully away, breaking the contact between their eyes.

Draco dropped his head into his hands and drew a shuddering sigh as the first year Slytherin's looked at him reproachfully.

"Something wrong, Malfoy?" A familiar voice drawled.

Draco snapped his head up to find the deep brown eyes and quirked eyebrows of Theodore Nott sitting a few seats away.

"What do you want?" Draco murmured in resignation.

"Didn't your Father teach you manners? A hello would be adequate enough."

"Shut it, Theo."

"Don't push me, Malfoy. We all know you're nothing now."

"I'll be nothing when I chose to be―"

"Mhmm, and someone who's own parents abandoned," Theo interrupted, leaning forward on the table to face him between the first years who were now staring straight forward, avoiding the two's eyes.

"Theo…" Draco whispered warningly.

Theo gave a slight raise of his eyebrows before laughing and shaking his head.

"Theodore Nott," Snape interrupted, "Unless you think wandering the corridors after hours is a laughing matter, you best be quiet."

Draco smiled at his godfather appreciatively as he gave a slight nod in response. Despite refusing to believe that he needed any help from _anyone_, it was nice to have somebody on his side, _for once_.

"Now that our dear Theo has finished, I would like to announce this years, Head Girl and Boy," Severus Snape continued. "From Gryffindor, Ms Hermione Granger." A small round of applause could be heard along with mutterings of Snape being a fucking sadist from the Gryffindor table, not that anybody cared about these trivial things anymore. "And from Slytherin, Mr Draco Malfoy."

And the room was silent. Draco calmly sat patiently as students from all houses glared at him.

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"_What is this?" Draco thrust the letter from Hogwarts to his godfather._

_He watched as Severus surveyed the note with little interest. "A letter from Hogwarts if I'm not mistaken."_

_Draco groaned. "I mean what it says."_

"_What does it say?"_

"_It says I'm Head Boy!" Draco exclaimed._

"_And what's wrong with that?"_

_Draco threw the letter down in frustration, turning on his heel to pace angrily around the room, with peeling walls, and various titbits littering the floor. "Does it look like I want to be Head Boy? Sure maybe a year ago, but not anymore. I hate the attention, and what's more, I don't _need_ it. Attention is exactly what has gotten me here," Draco gestured to the musty room, one of the many he'd been in._

"_I'm sorry, that is not something I control," Severus said impassively._

_Draco scoffed. "Not something you can control? If _I'm not mistaken_ you are headmaster are you not?"_

"_Albus decided Head Girl and Boy long before, Draco."_

"_And why did _Albus_ choose me? Why not Potter or Weasley or _anyone but me?_"_

"_For one, the two idiots are doing what idiots do. Trying to save the world. And second, Dumbledore believed that you needed this."_

"_And how have I given any indication that I needed this?" Draco muttered, eyes closing as his hands raked through his icy blonde hair in weariness and fatigue from all the running._

"_Oh, you've given plenty…" Severus Snape murmured under his breath, barely audible._

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><p>.<p>

Hermione lay down on the smooth coverings of her four-poster bed. No longer restricted in a shared dormitory, Hermione let herself sigh in relief. At least this was one of the benefits that came with being Head Girl, she thought as she absentmindedly smoothed over the white as fresh snow upon a raven coverlet.

Quickly picking herself up, she headed out of her dormitory to the library. If she was going to be set aside by Harry and Ron for the next however long it would be, she might as well figure out what those bloody horcruxes meant.

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Draco cursed under his breath as he was pushed into yet another wall by god knows who. First and second years were too fucking scared out of their minds of him and the rest up thought it was their responsibility personally to make his life a living hell.

Closing his eyes, he raked a hand through his dishevelled hair and leaned against the cold stone wall, eyeing the deserted entrance to the library. It was the first day of school, why on earth anyone would be at the library was beyond him and that was exactly why he headed there without a moment's notice, ignoring the scathing glares sent his way. He could deal with them, but his entire body was beginning to shake with exhaustion and passing through the common room was too much of an ordeal just to get to his dormitory.

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"Don't mess with me, Malfoy," Hermione said without looking up. She could recognise that unwelcomely familiar scent any day.

Draco raised an eyebrow at her. "I wasn't here to do that, Granger. But why you're here on the first day back I have no idea. Nobody, not even madam Pince is here. I was just checking if you were actually human and not an illusion."

Hermione looked up and scoffed.

Hermione looked up and scoffed.

"Actually…" He paused. "You are of course the know-it-all mudblood. I would've actually expected you here the minute you got to Hogwarts."

"Funny, Draco," Hermione rolled her eyes sarcastically. "But cut the act. We all know that your little buddies don't think so highly of you anymore, so quit walking around on your high horse like you've got a stick stuck up your arse."

Draco blanched. "I don't need them," he murmured.

"Mhmm, just as much as I don't need air. We all know purebloods are _purely_ created for social benefits."

Draco narrowed his eyes at the infuriating witch before him. A stray lock of a dark unruly curl hanging before her eyes. Her sweet, soft, lovely eyes. "Then don't act so high and mighty either, Granger. At least the Weasley girl isn't pretending, _we_ all know that Potter and Weasley left you. They were probably just using you for your brains."

Hermione stood up from her seat, slamming the heavy book down on the table making it creak. Draco eyed it cautiously; maybe it wasn't such a good idea to mess with the witch while she had a library full of books as heavy as a dragon at her disposal.

However, before he could back away from the angry woman, Hermione whipped out her wand and stepped one step closer to aim her want at his throat. "Firstly, don't you dare insinuate that Harry and Ron left me when you know absolutely _nothing_ about the situation. And secondly, when you're talking about my quote-unquote, _brains_, you're actually implying that I'm far more intelligent than you are, Mr. Malfoy, and dare I say, I don't think a pureblood would have ever suggested that a _mudblood_ would ever be smarter than a goddamn pureblood."

Draco sucked in a deep breath at the wand placed deftly at his throat. She was so close he could see his breath tickling the lose curl. "Mr. Malfoy?" He murmured in question. "Thank you, Miss Granger."

"Oh shut up, Malfoy," she said before storming out of the library leaving a very interesting fragrance and her intriguing book of ruins on the desk in which she sat.

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Hermione quickly picked up her toiletries to head to the prefects bathroom. She be damned if she had to use that sad excuse for a bathroom that was in her dormitory. She was exhausted, tension seeping off her in waves and completely spent. At the least she should be able to indulge in luxury.

Sinking in the luxuriously scented pool sized bathtub, let her muscles relax and closed her eyes.

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Draco took a deep gulp of air, almost choking but sighing in relief as the oxygen cleared his mind. His hands shook uncontrollably. This was one of the reasons why he was always so fatigued. If he went to sleep, he'd get nightmares, he'd much rather not sleep at all.

Shaking his head, disregarding the pathetic excuse for a bathroom he got up from the damp sheets of the bed and climbed out of the portrait hole. It wasn't like he was going to be caught for wandering corridors out of hours; he was Head Boy after all.

He walked uncoordinatedly towards the showers, seeing a dark figure by the bath. He shook his head; it was probably just a house elf. Stripping himself completely of his sweat drenched clothes; he stepped into the soothing water of the hot, pounding stream.

After a good half hour, Draco absentmindedly dried himself, but almost immediately distracted by a feminine sigh. Furrowing his eyebrows he peaked around the corner to find a figure lounging in the vast bath filled to the brim with bubbles.

He stepped forth curiously to find his feet at a lock of curly dark brown hair. Draco took a step back and widened his eyes. Cautiously stepping back, he backed away from the witch before him, soap barely grazing the base of her collarbone, creamy shoulders and lounging neck against the marble of the bath.

His breath caught in his throat at the sight before him and before he could realise, his foot slipped against a puddle of water left behind and sent him crashing down with a loud slap, cursing furiously.

Hermione's eyes snapped open immediately, blinking away her bleariness, she turned around to find a mess of platinum blonde hair on the floor and shrieked.

Draco instinctively skirted away. "Bloody hell Granger, why'd you scream that loud for?"

"WHY? DO YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY?" Hermione yelled, quickly standing up and grabbing a towel to wrap around her.

"Oh do tell." He said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"BECAUSE, MALFOY. YOU FUCKING WALKED INTO ME IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FUCKING NIGHT WHILE I WAS TAKING A BATH." Hermione swore.

His eyes widened as he stood up gingerly.

"I didn't know you could swear," he smirked. "Perfect little Granger isn't so perfect now is she?"

"Shut it, Malfoy. And get out of here."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "These _are_ the prefect's bathrooms aren't they? If so, I have every right to be here."

"Not in the middle of the night you don't."

"And you may be forgetting, neither do you."

"Why are you here then, Malfoy?" Hermione sighed in resignation.

"Taking a shower," he replied stiffly.

"In the middle of the night?"

"That's none of your business."

Hermione scoffed. "Jesus Christ you're thick. It's very indeed my business because we _all _know who you are. Draco Malfoy. And why on earth Draco Malfoy is lurking around the school at the crack of dawn I have no idea, but it's certainly nothing good. After all, you are the very same Draco Malfoy that killed Dumbledore."

"I didn't _kill_ him," he bit back, jaw clenching tightly.

"You may as well have. You're the one who let the death eaters into Hogwarts in the first place aren't you? The death eaters that resulted in Dumbledore's _death,_ am I right?"

"The one and the same," he breathed barely audible.

Hermione laughed and took a step forward to him. "Exactly my point."

She studied him intently as his eyes narrowed at her, long feathery pale as moonlight lashes caressing his pale features. Eyes that swirled liked mercury, moving and floating without direction.

"But here you are, aren't you Malfoy? I guess that's some consolation."

He raised an eyebrow in question.

"Here, stuck at Hogwarts with me. Because we all stopped giving a shit about you. We all decided that you were just a waste of space. I think that's _one_ thing that the order and the other side finally agree on, that the once great Draco Malfoy is worth nothing anymore."

"Granger, don't you dare―" His eyes glinted dangerously.

"Don't I dare what? State the truth? We all know your nothing anymore. A traitor to your own kind."

"Fuck you, mudblood," his words dripped with malice.

"Wow, those words sting," Hermione whispered sarcastically. "I _loathe_ you, Malfoy," she said with venom.

"And why is that, Granger?" He murmured, stepping forwards, closing the gap between the two until all he could see was her. Her dark lashes, the slight curve of her lips, her hollowed cheeks from lack of eating, and her chocolate eyes that gave away far more than what she wished on how she was coping.

"Because you are the very reason that I'm in this predicament right now."

"And what is your predicament?" He whispered softly, his hot breath caressing her cheek.

"Here!" She exclaimed and he drew a sharp intake of breath. "I'm _here._ At Hogwarts. When the people I love are off trying to save the world. I'm _here, _where they left me. I'm _here,_ because they don't need me. I'm _here_, because Hogwarts is the only thing I have left."

And without another word, she whipped around, her locks grazing his nose as she turned, grabbed her robes and stalked across the room to the door.

Just before she turned the handle, Hermione turned around. "You know what Malfoy? I. Completely. And utterly. Hate. You."

With that, Hermione opened the door and walked away.

Draco stood in the bathroom seething.

He completely and utterly hated her too.

**AN. Two reviews. Thanks guys for the support. Real nice. If you couldn't tell, I was being sarcastic. So I decided to wait a week to post this. THAT'S WHAT YOU GET. Okay I'm joking. It took me a week to write. If you like the story, please review, it'd be amazing. If you don't, please tell me. If you find any errors, please tell me as well. I'm thinking of getting a beta but I'm not sure if I need one.**

**chocolate frogs to everyone who reads!**

**i love you all. xx.**


	3. Daydreams

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING. The amazing, talented, JK Rowling owns all and I am merely using her characters for no benefit other than my own sick imagination.**

**Chapter 3; Daydreams**

Draco woke up blinded by the light streaming through his window from the curtains which he had forgotten to close. Cursing, he pulled himself up, ripped off the sheets, grabbed the bottle of firewhiskey stashed below his bed and stalked into the bathroom to take a shower. Merlin knows how bad today was going to be.

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Hermione shifted as her hands numbly flipped another dried up page. She'd been doing this since the crack of dawn after being unable to sleep from the incident with Malfoy.

Her brain was befuddled as she poured endlessly over texts on Tom Riddle's history, where he could possibly be hiding another part of his soul, where Harry and Ron could find, and send them home sooner. Magazine articles, newspaper cuttings, she noticed the Prophet was just as ruthless a decade ago and absolutely adoring as they announced the birth of baby Draco.

How did such a sweet and innocent boy shown in the clipping grow to be such a reckless wizard? Smart, intelligent, sure. But with such a complete disregard for anyone's feelings?

She remembered his pale and distinct features in the glow of the moonlight and shuddered. His smooth skin that still glistened with droplets of water, the shadows of ridges and contours that lined his body, the way his pants hung loosely, barely revealing the curve of his hip bones.

Closing her eyes in weariness, Hermione gathered her books into her bag and headed off to the Great Hall for breakfast. Draco Malfoy was too exhausting for words.

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><p>.<p>

Draco stumbled into the Great Hall and sat down at the Slytherin table rather clumsily, met with stony glares. Maybe the firewhiskey mixed with the hot shower was a little too much for his head but he welcomed it.

He'd become used to the constant hum of alcohol, of peaceful bliss coating his mind, it'd often been his only companion on those lonely nights, left alone with himself and his thoughts, his guilt, his anger, his betrayal.

His parents were yet to even give an inkling that they cared.

But it was fine, because nobody needed to care because he was Draco Malfoy. Because Draco Malfoy didn't needed anybody to care.

His heart slammed into his throat as the Gryffindor walked into the room. Yesterday's supply of alcohol had been exhausted far earlier before he boarded the train for Hogwarts and in return he'd suffered shocks of nightmares. However, after his little 'incident' with Gryffindor's prized muggleborn, his entire body gave way to sleep without a second's notice as he lay on his bed thinking of the way the residue of soap glided over her creamy skin as she rushed to wrap herself in a towel, her long damp locks of hair dripping onto the pristine white tiles as her cheeks flushed.

His mind danced with flashes of her smooth, soft skin as it shone in the steady glow of the moon's rays; rosy lips, pouted ever so slightly; delicate, aristocratic hands that could do whatever they pleased; long, lustrous locks of dark tangled curls.

Mmmm… he painfully thought as images raced through his mind. She was far too delicious to be legal, but yet again, she was a muggleborn, she wasn't meant for the likes of him. Actually, _nobody_ really wanted anything to do with him.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Professor Slughorn ambled into the classroom jovially, his belly first and with the rest of his body proceeding.

"Well, well, well, it is a new year at Hogwarts and this year you will be studying for your NEWTs which with affect your career immensely."

Draco rolled his eyes. It was the very same speech every time. It's just that they forgot that for some of them finding a career for him would be harder than raising a dragon. Nobody wanted to be affiliated with his tainted name, from _both_ sides. His father was probably paying for it right now, he thought, smiling.

"Now, I've got a great few lessons planned for you today, and how about we start with a little game."

Everybody glanced jadedly at one another.

"I all understand you are the best and brightest of your year, which is why I think this will appeal to you very much so." The man was practically quivering with excitement. "We will be brewing Veritaserum over the past few days _and_ to those who are able to brew this correctly, they are able to chose _anyone_ in the room and ask them exactly 10 questions. Now I respect your privacy so these conversations are at only at the two's discretion am I clear? These will be held in private and not to be spoken of to anybody. I will only give you enough to last a few minutes."

The class's eyes widened and blanched, eyeing Hermione wearily, she was probably the only one in the room who could even brew Veritaserum without warning in the first place. Either way, nobody was willing to be spilling their secrets but all of them wanted to know something or other. However, Draco's eyes narrowed in calculation. I chose you mudblood, he thought to himself, a wicked smile gracing his lips, it was time to make her squirm.

Hermione hummed quietly, she didn't want to know anything from her classmates, and the things that she wished to know, the people in this classroom couldn't give to her. At least this would be a fit distraction from the hours of numbing silence. It would pass wouldn't it?

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Draco stumbled out of the Headmaster's door with Hermione as she gave him a reproachful look. "You shouldn't be drinking at this hour," she murmured.

"Actually, Granger, I was drinking a lot earlier than this," he remarked.

"You do know that you can't keep going like this?"

He rolled his eyes. Here she was, just another girl who thought he could change. "And you should mind your own business," he said low in his throat, warningly as a group of Slytherins recklessly pushed him hard into the jagged stone walls.

"Sorry, Sir," she bit back scathingly, watching with amusement as he pushed off the wall gingerly.

Draco looked up and smirked. "Didn't know you were into kinky role play, Granger," he whispered sardonically.

Hermione gaped at him. "Funny, Malfoy. Hilarious," she shot back, sarcastically as she walked away back to the Gryffindor common room.

"I don't see you denying it," he called.

Hermione turned around abruptly, glaring into his silken orbs, his tall, lean figure resting comfortably against the wall, so confident with his own self and body.

"It's okay Granger, we all know little miss perfect could _never_ do anything improper," he taunted, eyebrows raised.

She narrowed her eyes at him, stalking back, her head held high yet even with her back straight she was a good half a head shorter than him as he looked down at her with that god-awful smirk on his lips. "Name it, Malfoy."

Draco's eyebrows shot up as he licked his lips. "How about…" He thought silently as she clicked her tongue. "Shh… Patience is a virtue, Granger. How about you wear absolutely nothing underneath your robes for an entire day?"

Hermione's breath caught in her throat at the wicked gleam in his eye. "Harry and Ron were right, you really _do_ invite trouble don't you?"

"Honey, I don't invite it, I _welcome_ it," he purred dangerously, stepping forwards until he was a mere few millimetres from her. "Unless you're scared? I didn't think courageous Gryffindors were scared of anything."

She took one more miniscule step forward, angling her face just away enough to not touch but for her breath to graze his chin. "Oh, it's on, Malfoy. Only if you do the very same."

Draco smirked at her; he liked the way the witch thought. He was close enough to count the few freckles dotting her nose, the thick lashes of her eyes, the glints of gold in her chocolate orbs. "Tomorrow," he affirmed.

Hermione nodded in consent and walked swiftly away, head bowed and blushing. Could she do this? Of course she could. It wasn't something anyone would expect perfect Miss Hermione Granger to ever do which was exactly why she was doing it. Well, there was the added bonus of surprising Malfoy of course.

His eyes followed her retreating figure, a huge smirk on his face. Looks like his daydreams were coming true.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Hermione woke up, restless and still exhausted. She'd hardly been able to get a good night's sleep ever since… well since. She would be haunted by Bellatrix Lestranges' deranged eyes, daily prophet pictures of Morfin Gaunt's hollowed face, images of her parents lifeless on the floor, with no damage done, just with glassy, haunted eyes. There was way too much at stake, too much sacrifice, too much to lose right now and here she was wallowing, hoarded up like a disgrace at Hogwarts.

Why couldn't they understand her? She _could_ take care of herself. She _could_ handle this. But obviously not. Those two idiots of friends took off without her, without a single word of acknowledgement. She'd get her hands on them after this, if they survived…

She'd also spent the better part of the night scolding herself for getting into a situation with _Malfoy_. Why on Merlin's Law did she agree to this? She could already imagine that arrogant, aristocratic face snickering at her backing out and she was certainly no coward, despite her being nicely protected behind the safe walls of Hogwarts while her friends were off putting their lives at risk saying differently.

Nobody would expect her to do something like this. Prim and proper Hermione Granger would never ever find herself in ties with Draco Malfoy. Which was exactly her reasoning when she got out of bed, stripped right down and pulled on her robes, wrapping them tightly around her torso.

And without any further thinking, Hermione strolled out of her room to class.

The entire day passed rather rushed, she hadn't seen one spot of that platinum blonde hair since breakfast however her luck was about to run short.

She walked as fast as she could to Arithmacy without her robes billowing about revealing how little she was wearing, however Professor Vector was already leaning casually against the chair speaking to the class already.

"Nice of you to join us, Miss Granger," she said strictly.

"Sorry, Professor," Hermione quickly replied, bowing her head. Scanning the room, she looked at the desks, did they only have that many? A total of only ten students had achieved the required grade for Advanced Arithmacy, including the one and very same Slytherin that she'd been hoping to avoid all day. And yet, the room seemed to be magiced to have the exact amount of desks as students with the one and only not currently occupied being next to the temperamental wizard that kept to himself often.

Dragging her bag along, Hermione swiftly sat down without a single look of acknowledgement from the blonde beside her.

"Now that Miss Granger has joined us at last, we will see how this theory is demonstrated with this film that highlights the important essentials of Advanced Arithmacy, quite different from your basics."

The projector flickered on as the blinds were shut. The black and white blurred images graced the screen and Hermione felt a slight warmth ghost across her knee. Paying no attention, she leant back in her seat, eyes focused on the icy blonde feathery hair that shone even in darkness. The warmth returned, this time further down her calf. Eyes snapping away from the back of his head, Hermione leant forwards once more and looked curiously down at her leg, gasping.

A pale as moonlight finger was leisurely gliding over her robes, a stark contrast to the black fabric.

"Malfoy," she hissed in warning.

He turned his head infinitesimally in response, quirking an eyebrow, his hand venturing further upwards, dancing across her thigh.

"Goddamn it, Malfoy," she whispered harshly.

He stayed silent, turning his head away from her as if he was solely fixated on the flickering images.

"Malfoy stop it," Hermione cursed.

"I'm just wondering if you'd held up on your little side of our bargain, Granger," he murmured.

"Oh, he speaks!" She exclaimed.

"You still haven't answered me, Granger," he whispered darkly.

"You never asked me a question, Malfoy," she replied briskly, pushing his hand away.

Draco snatched his hand away almost as if he'd been electrocuted, pausing, her skin was remarkably as soft as it looked. "Just tell me," he gritted out.

She rolled her eyes and swiftly lifted up her robes to her thigh where the warmth of his hand still lingered, tingling on her flesh. She raised her eyes expectantly to meet his in the blanket of darkness, waiting for his reaction.

The milky skin of her leg was oddly inviting as she twisted her long leg around his ankle. Oh she could definitely play dirty. And Weasley was definitely taking advantage of her, and that would matter if he wanted her in the first place. Why would he want her? _Her_, she was nothing to him; she was something he could never have, and he _shouldn't_ have.

"Granger, I've spent half my life with Pansy, I know how short skirts can be," he murmured knowing full well she would rather be stark naked than wear one of those scraps of fabric that passed off as clothing.

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, her foot, still wrapped around his ankle, tugging as he inhaled a sharp gasp.

Merlin, why did she have to be so taunting, so meticulously thorough, so irresistible … And why was he so drawn to her despite every cell of his very existence being programmed _not to_?

"First of all, you know full well that I don't own a single skirt, and second of all, maybe this will change your mind."

And before he could ask or retaliate, she reached over for his once discarded hand and led it to the opening of her robes.

Draco's eyes widened as he deftly slipped his fingers through the folds of her cloak to find her bare stomache, the feverish warmth of her body heat pressed against his hand as he stroked the smooth skin. Trailing his fingers across her flushed flesh, Hermione involuntarily gasped under her breath. Maybe she didn't think this through properly. What was she meant to do now?

She should stop him, but she didn't want to. It'd been so absolutely long since she'd been in any contact with _anyone_. But she liked Ron. Ron. Ron. Ron. Ron. Ron. The same wizard who abandoned her. No that wasn't his fault.

All thoughts were thrown out of her mind as another hand found hers and dragged it across the gap between their seats to another warm, flushed body. Taking her time, she lifted one of the corners and her knuckles grazed the surprisingly warm skin of the top of his thigh. Who knew that a cold-blooded Slytherin could have such scorching hot skin?

She subconsciously leant into him until his hot raged breath was against her neck, rustling her locks of hair. His cool scent rushed over her like a tidal wave. He smelt of fresh rain, morning dew on blades of grass, clean laundry and aftershave. Why did that have to be so intoxicating?

Draco closed his eyes and her cool hand crawled up his thigh. Almost, he willed her hand to move faster. Oh Merlin, what was happening? He was finding it very hard to remain control, all sense of reason and train of thought were abandoned as he fought to keep his breathing steady. He liked control, he wasn't one to not have control. Even when his life was spinning out of control, he had remained those last threads of it by keeping up his demeanour of pureblood royalty but now as all the blood from his head rushed south, all he wanted was something completely illicit right at this very moment.

Electricity was coursing through both wanton bodies, their desk at the back of the room was almost completely engulfed in darkness aside from the seemingly distance flicker of lights being emitted from the film that _she_ was meant to be paying attention to.

What was she doing? But all she could think of was the way his breathing pattern changed each time she scraped her nails on his skin. Level-headed Hermione Granger, Harry Potter's brains, Ron Weasley's princess, they were all labels, names she wished to just ignore and for her to just be completely _normal_. With parents who knew who she was, with friends that didn't leave her at some ghosted school and certainly without some _very _familiar male tracing patterns on her bare skin.

Well, it was too late now, she thought absentmindedly as she scraped her nails gently up his thigh as he sucked in a deep breath, his eyes rolling back to the back of his forehead.

Two could play the game, he smirked to himself as his hands discarded the task of tracing patterns on her stomache but instead travelling further up her torso.

Hermione shot him a panicked stare and was met with his smouldering grey orbs, dark with list and flickering with light that her breath was stolen from her lungs.

She lifted her hand and agonisingly slowly grazed his lower abdomen with her thumb nail.

Draco let out a hiss between his teeth and moved his hand further up until he felt her tense under his touch as he played with the rim of her bra. It gave him a sick pleasure to know that he could make even Harry Potter's golden girl harden at his touch.

However, Hermione threw out all caution to the wind and with swift fingers started to inch even closer, painfully grazing his hipbone. Closing his eyes in anticipation, his laboured breathing tickling the base of her neck, he leaned further back in his seat, bringing his hips forward.

And before she could do anything drastic that she would regret, the flickering lights went out and the blinds went up, sunlight streaming through and blinding them.

_Holy_, Hermione thought, jerking her hand out.

The two of them were panting heavily, refusing to look at one another as she felt his hand slide out from the opening in her robes, leaving only cool air to replace.

"Class dismissed," Professor Vector said and before anyone had stood up, Hermione pulled out from her chair, grabbed her books and walked as fast as she could out of the classroom with a flush still staining her cheeks.

Draco remained seated even after everyone had left. His breathing was ragged as he tipped back in his chair. How _dare_ she make him feel that way? How _did_ she make him feel that way?

Closing his eyes, he let out a shaky sigh, control wasn't something he gave up so easily.

**AN. HEY THERE. So when I was writing this, I told myself, 'No sexual interaction until characters have progressed,'and then I caved. Oh wells. You'll be seeing more sexual action from around 6 onwards I believe.**

**Now, can I just say, I love you all very much and when you review it feels like somebody has baked me a cake and told me I could eat it all. So please could you continue making me feel all warm and fuzzy inside?**

**The more you review, the earlier I post! (as evidence with this)**

**Sugar quills to everyone who reads! xoxo**


	4. Insanity

**DISCLAIMER: This story is completely separate to JK Rowling's success. I wish to have no success or gain from this story except my own personal enjoyment. JK Rowling owns all characters mentioned and all storylines mentioned.**

**Chapter 4; Insanity**

"Do I make myself very clear when I say that if you even dare try this little stunt of yours one more time that you'll be rotting in the very dungeons of the very Manor you'd spent your days growing up in. Am. I. Clear?" The sharp hiss of a snake wound across his chest, constricting, beetle black eyes, oily hair, hooked nose inches from his face.

"Yes, Sir," he grumbled. No point in trying to argue for his innocence, Severus would shoot him down nevertheless. He'd only been in a haze of alcohol, reckless, hardly in control of his actions.

Severus Snape knew all too well the unfocused eyes of someone laden with the numbing affects of alcohol. He also knew that his godson was at least aware of his actions as he blasted past the gates of Hogsmeade and walked right out. After all, Malfoy's were always in control despite excuses. Alcohol had certain limitations.

"Now, don't you even _think _on doing this again, yes? Don't draw attention to yourself. People will start to wonder, whisper and begin to question you once more. The Dark Lord may not be strong, but he soon will be. Don't make enemies that you don't need."

Draco stormed out of the study in frustration, hands running through his hair that was well exceeding the limit to how long it should be. Long locks hung in a mess of blonde on his head.

He was so fucking annoyed of everyone trying to take care of him. Hogwarts was big, sure, but it felt all too claustrophobic with the bustling students, the students that would never just mind their own business. Yes, he lied; he knew what he was doing when he tried leaving. He knew that he wouldn't survive for one _second_ but he still walked out and in that one small second of freedom, he felt the tight knot in his chest disappear. People just needed to stop giving a fuck. He didn't want Severus down his throat for every living second of every day, he didn't want the scathing looks from every single person he passed, and he just wanted everyone to forget he existed. Was that too much to ask for? Why couldn't he just disappear? Why did he have to just keep going even when everyone knew he wasn't even worth the floor he stood on?

Closing his eyes, Draco's hand dipped into the inner pocket of his robes for his flask. Tipping it back, he swallowed the last gulps as it burnt comfortably down his throat.

Pushing himself up from the wall, he moved his leaden legs and walked lazily back to his dormitory, the first few pink streaks of light littering the sky.

Rounding a corner he found a slumped figure up against the jagged stone walls. Swearing under his breath he made to turn around and find another passageway to his dormitory but before he could, the figure shifted and revealed all too familiar dark brown curls in a tangle vine.

He heard a choked sob before he shook his head from his trance and as quietly as he could, backed away from the shaking form of the strong Gryffindor, almost a reflection of himself that lay a few metres from his feet.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

The days passed easily and quickly and before they knew it, the chilly breeze of autumn graced the halls of the students at Hogwarts. This also meant their time was up for their potion of Veritaserum that they'd been working endlessly for all working hours of the day. Hermione, unsurprisingly, without breaking so much a sweat, managed to brew the potion correctly as well as Draco, surprisingly.

This was probably the first sign of his intelligence that he hid behind his mask of indifference and alcohol. She knew he probably didn't care, but she couldn't help but be intrigued by how effortlessly he worked on the mind-numbing potion even with his slight drunken stupor at times throughout the day. She could tell he was slowly weaning off, his supply must be low and the frantic twitches of his eyes, bodily shivers showed signs of withdrawal.

Draco had permanent purple bruises under his eyes from his lack of sleep now that his supply of alcohol that had once driven away the night terrors diminished and with that, his grip on sanity.

His mouth twitched in satisfaction at his completed potion and his hands slumped in weariness. Although most classes were the most mundane pieces of shit ever, potions always managed to challenge in even in the slightest amount. He'd already learnt the 7th year course from Snape in his 6th year because the older wizard didn't want Draco's death on his conscience as the blonde was ordered to battle against older and deadlier Death Eaters. It was a way to single out the weaklings and let them die slowly and painfully with their injuries. Thank god most of the Death Eater's were a bunch of dunderheads in the first place. He really did need a decent night's rest. Maybe a year's worth. But a small hit of a smirk graced his face as he thought of the tiny measly moments of making Granger squirm that were before him.

Slughorn stared disappointingly at his class who began vanishing the vile substances that they had concurred before bouncing towards Hermione whilst throwing a plump hand to gesture towards Draco for him to come.

"Now, surprisingly, you are the only ones who managed to brew the potion properly," the Professor said in displeasure and produced 2 tiny vials of clear, odourless liquid. "However, a promise is a promise, and I will give you two enough Veritaserum to last only a minute or so. You may choose anyone in this class to have a little fun with to test out your potions. Now the only drawback is, these conversations will be conducted in privacy and all discretion is needed otherwise I will have a good speak to your Headmaster about it who agreed to this project in the first place."

Hermione scoffed silently to herself. Evidently Snape preferred a more _hands on_ approach to illegal substances.

The two of them both took their respective vials and walked off silently without a word to one other whilst the rest of the class cleaned up the mess in the classroom.

Hermione absentmindedly fingered the tiny bottle of clear liquid wondering what on earth to do with it.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Draco aimlessly wandered along the edge of the deserted black lake as the rest of the school were far off in the distance at the Quidditch pitch for the game. Ghostly cheers and hollers were swept towards him as his feet crunched on the array of brown, orange and red that littered the floor.

The cool breeze rustled his feathery locks of hair as he sat down beside the lake eyeing its vast empty contents, reflecting the overcast and grey clouds that clustered close together overhead.

Closing his eyes with a sigh, his weary mind pulled him under the cover of darkness as he subconsciously dipped a long, aristocratic finger into the icy contents of the lake.

_His mind was now weary with exhaustion, voice hoarse from cries, body numb enough thankfully to be unfeeling of the gashes along his body, broken bones and the aching pain at his left temple._

_Seldom shockwaves of electricity sometimes coursed its way throughout the water, but the effects of the spell was wearing off and in turn so did Draco's consciousness and he gladly welcomed the nagging darkness at the fringes of his mind._

_A thin trickle of scarlet red blood traced its way along his high cheekbones, dancing on his snowy features before it disappeared into the arctic water, diluting into the faintest pink before being washed away, no evidence whatsoever._

_The tell tale sign of pins and needles washed over him pulling him away from his stupor. He cursed the lake for being not cold enough to be completely numb, but things never really went his way did they?_

_He pulled jadedly against his restrains, too exhausted and nearly numb enough to be unable to function._

_He heard the familiar crunch of the icy leaves on rubber boot and he hung his head. They'd come back to check on him didn't they?_

_Why couldn't they just have left him to die? It would be preferable to another round._

_He closed his eyes and waited diligently for the crucio that was sure to rip through him. They'd always start with that, it would heat up his blood and make him be more aware of the other things they'd do to him._

_A pair of hands as cold as his found the restraints and tugged on them unsuccessfully. Draco opened his dilated eyes and found the beetle black eyes that were focused unmoving on him. His godfather pulled out his wand from the inside of his robes and quickly and sloppily cut away the restraints on his wrists that bound him to the edge of the lake, drawing blood from his wrist as it cut too far in but Draco was too unaware of his movements to notice or care._

_The sharp tug on his broken arm forced another hoarse murmur from his lips as he struggled to move away. He found himself pushing away from the edge of the lake and his leaden limbs caused him to begin to start sinking into the bottomless pit._

_A long arm reached for his hair and pulled him back to shore dragging his what Snape thought to be his unconscious body but Draco was more than aware of his tormented self._

He was suddenly jerked away from his haziness and removed his hand from the icy lapping waves when he smelt the same familiar whiff of his Mother's plants.

Eyes snapping open he found the recognisable locks of her curly brown hair.

"What are you doing here?" He said defensively.

Hermione cursed herself. She just wanted to be alone and yet here he was. Sitting at her spot by the lake. Why did she always end up bumping into him? All she wanted was one year without seeing Malfoy's arrogant face that reminded her all too much of everything she wanted to forget. "Why aren't you watching the Quidditch match between Slytherin and Ravenclaw?" She asked curiously.

Draco scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Does it look like I can go? Yeah to be at the same fucking place as the rest of the fucking school? Not to mention where to sit. Yeah I bet it's going to be all fine and dandy when I sit in the Slytherin stands. Besides, why would I go when I have such fascinating company right here?"

Hermione allowed the edges of her lips to lift.

"And why aren't you there either Granger? I would've pegged you for one to be all supporting school unity and all."

Hermione shook her head. "Quidditch was never my thing."

"I could tell from the minute you touched a broom," he remarked as a smile pulled at her lips. "The Weasley shouldn't have been able to mount a broom ever either, but apparently, his stupidity is a family trait."

Hermione sighed. Ron was never particularly good at Quidditch despite his avid support of it. She remembered when Ron first eyed Harry's broom with wonder a very, very, very long time ago.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Don't be a stranger," he said patting the ground beside him. "After all, you part of the reason why I'm completely shunned by everyone and everything."

Hermione frowned at him and despite his dripping sarcasm, and settled herself besides him. "How am I part of the reason?" She murmured softly, so quietly in fact that he had to strain to hear it.

"Oh Granger, maybe, I don't know, because you and your buddies made it near impossible for me to kill Dumbledore which leaves me hated by both sides, which was basically, hmm, _everyone_."

"But you didn't kill Dumbledore," she whispered.

"Wow, just a month ago you were screaming at me for killing your beloved Headmaster."

"You know, Malfoy. There are people who aren't on either side."

Draco laughed. "Oh I know them. The bench sitters. Dumbledore's brother am I right? Yeah does it look like they're bothering to help me either?"

Hermione opened her mouth to reply but she didn't know how.

He idly thumbed the cool vial of liquid inside his robes where his hand was tucked away from the wintry weather to regain feeling from the piercing cold of the lake and a thought popped into his head.

"You know, Granger. I think I'm ready to use my Veritaserum now," he drawled.

Hermione whipped her head away from studying the vastness of the lake to his head, several strands of hair brushing the tip of his nose. "What?"

"Slughorn said we could choose anyone in the class. And Granger, I chose you."

Hermione opened and closed her mouth in shock. "W-what?" She stuttered once more.

"Stop looking so surprised, Granger. Idiocy isn't flattering."

Hermione shook her head, clearing her thoughts. "Why?" she questioned nervously.

"Because, I expect every other idiot in the class to hex my balls off the minute they see my face. Actually, I'm surprised you haven't already," he remarked and pulled out the vial of liquid, offering it to her.

Hermione stared at him reproachfully. "And why do I have to agree to this?"

"Because, where's that bravery all Gryffindor's have been hiding? After all, what can a snake do to you?" He murmured darkly, almost dangerously as if he was hiding a threat behind his tongue.

"Fine, Malfoy," she took the vial, uncorked it and tipped it down her throat.

Draco smirked in satisfaction as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Well? You only have a minute."

"Fine, testy testy." His brow knitted in thought. "How many boyfriends have you had?"

Hermione widened her eyes. "Do you have to be so invading?" She managed to force out before the answer slipped past her lips. "Six."

Draco raised his eyes in surprise. "Really?"

"_Yes_," she said with emphasis.

He smirked. "How many of them were muggle?"

"How many of what, Malfoy?" She managed to evade the question.

Draco rolled his eyes. "How many of your _boyfriends_ were muggle?"

"Five," she responded. She knew she had no chance of fighting the potion.

"And I'm guessing your sixth was Victor Krum wasn't it?"

"Yes."

"Did you kiss him?"

"Yes." She murmured quietly. She had a feeling she knew where this was going.

"Did you fuck him?" He breathed.

Hermione glared at him indignantly. "You have no right to ― No."

Draco laughed at her attempts to evade him. "So are you a virgin?"

She brought her hand back to slap his goddamn smirk of his face before his hand caught her wrist and held it in place. "I'm going to ask you again. Are you a virgin?"

"Oh god yes," she blurted out.

He laughed and let go of her wrist. "That wasn't so hard wasn't it, Granger?" He murmured as she squirmed before him.

"Why did I agree to this," she cursed, dejectedly.

He smirked at her. "Do you like Ron Weasley?"

"Kind of," she murmured.

"Kind of?" He questioned.

"He's a little clingy," she admitted through her clenched teeth.

His eyes danced with mirth at her. "So do you like him?"

"Yes," she murmured.

"Do you want to fuck him?" He whispered dangerously close to her ear, his breath hot against her flesh.

"Malfoy, you fucking piece of shit," she responded, eyes flashing in anger.

His eyes widened. "Whoops, I guess times up."

"Oh yes it is, Malfoy. You had absolutely no right to ask me things like that."

"Well you should've thought about that before you agreed," he argued back.

Hermione's eyes were dark and angry as she raised her hand to try strike his snowy features once again. But yet again, his fast reflexes found her wrist and instead of holding her in place he pulled her forwards and caused her to tumble into his lap.

He sat stock still, her flushed body pressed tightly against his as she struggled to get up. "Fine, Malfoy. It's my turn," she whispered vehemently pulling out the crystal vial from the pocket of her jeans, their legs still tangled together.

He stared at her with wide eyes. Did he really want her to find out more about his poor miserable life? However, Draco Malfoy would never back down to _anything_. Despite being a complete _nothing_ he was still the very same Draco Malfoy.

Tipping his head back, he allowed her to pour the few droplets of odourless and tasteless liquid down his throat.

"Did you want to kill Dumbledore?" She whispered as she began her interrogation, leaning forwards.

"I don't know," he mumbled back.

"I don't know as in you don't want to tell me or you didn't want to kill Dumbledore?"

"Well it's hardly going to be the first one since I'm on the fucking truth serum," he retorted back.

Hermione smiled. "I know. But I just got you to admit you didn't want to kill Dumbledore."

Draco blanched, brows furrowed in confusing. "Wait what?"

"I asked if you didn't want to tell me or if you didn't want to kill Dumbledore," she responded. "You denied the former but you neglected to mention the latter."

Draco's eyes raised in surprise. "Slytherin witch," he hissed.

"It still doesn't change anything though," she murmured thoughtfully.

"Well I'm glad I have your approval," he remarked with biting sarcasm.

"Well I'm sorry that you're so bloody hard to like," she replied hot-headedly.

"Well I'm sorry that your two idiots had to deal with you all this time," he retorted, his silver eyes flashing.

"Well I'm sorry that your parents had to deal with you all these years," she all about yelled in frustration.

"Fuck off, mudblood," he murmured dangerously, eyes dark, long dirty blonde lashes licking his cheeks as he blinked.

"You haven't changed, Malfoy. I can't believe Dumbledore actually believed you were good. And then you and Snape betrayed him right behind his back. Yet you still have the gall to stand here, at his very school?"

"The man was dying! His days were numbered in the first place," he exclaimed.

Hermione closed her damp eyes, her dark, full lashes thick with tears. Trust Malfoy to remind her of everything. "Iknow I know I _know_. But I just want to believe, that maybe, just maybe, if he'd still been here, maybe everything would be different. Maybe I wouldn't be here alone." _Maybe her parents would be here, sending her a present on her birthday or Christmas. Maybe everything that she held dear to her heart wouldn't be in danger._

"Well stop pretending, Granger," he replied coldly.

Hermione sighed in resignation, shaking away the shattering feeling in her chest. "Why are you even here, Malfoy?"

Draco found himself leaning forward, so that her soft, feathery breath glided across the flesh of his face and he found himself yearning. Yearning for what he didn't know, but for something.

She could feel his ragged breath on her cheek, so oddly broken and comforting, like smooth silk gliding over bold steel. She was trembling, falling into the depths of his silver eyes. He came closer by degrees, and as she closed her eyes she felt his warm soft lips brush hers.

And Draco, despite his ice cold skin, felt like he was on fire.

**AN: Hello my sweeties! Yes that is right, HERE IS THE KISS. Hahahaa and this is in no way going to be the end of all this torment. I'm not that kind. You'll find out what happens at the end my sweethearts. I'm estimated around 15 chapters depending on how much I cover through each story.**

**I would really like a Beta, but I don't know where to get a good one ): Please tell me where you could find a good beta? I tried Perfect Imagination but they haven't gotten back to me! Ah wells, this story is just going to be beta-less for a while.**

**I hope you guys liked the story so far. Please R & R. Oh wait, you've already read (I'm assuming since you're at the bottom of the page) you just need to review! And continue reading of course.**

**Tell me what you think and if I need to improve!**

**- J**


	5. Desolation

**DISCLAIMER: I own absolutely nothing except for my pathetic excuse for a plot. JK Rowling owns all characters and any similarities to other personnel is purely coincidental.  
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**Chapter 5; Desolation**

Draco pulled away from her soft, warm lips. Her eyes were dilated and he was guessing so was his.

What the fuck did he just do?

He wasn't even sure how it happened in the first place.

She was staring back at him with wide eyes, still barely inches from his face, her panting breath rustling the platinum locks on his forehead.

He let out a shuddering breath, eyeing her wildly.

"Malfoy, I―" She quickly spoke but he cut her off by rapidly rising from the floor, pushing her close frame away.

He paused for a moment as he saw her tumble backwards but her hands caught her in time before she could fall into the icy depths of the lake.

Hermione saw his pale steely grey gaze flash as he turned his head away from her, a whip of silver locks following close behind. Draco made to walk away and she tried to utter a word, any word but all she could manage was, "Malfoy…"

And without a glance back behind him, he stalked back towards the stony castle, leaves crunching in his wake, and a familiar tingling sensation of warmth on her lips.

Draco moved swiftly and carelessly as everyone was still outside at the Quidditch match. Either Ravenclaws got better or Gryffindor just really sucked without Potter. He walked purposefully along the corridors without much purpose only to clear his head, cursing under his breath.

What the fuck?

Voldemort was getting stronger. And before long he would be after Draco's arse and everyone that was with tied with him. Afterall, nobody leaves Voldemort's circle without wishing for a painful and torturous death. And _that_ should be his _one and only_ thought at the current time.

So what in Merlin's name possessed him to lean into Hermione fucking Granger?

What the fuck was wrong with him. She'd been screwing with his mind and way too close to him for the past year for comfort. Albeit there was a blissful peace when he had seen absolutely nothing of her for a month or so but that only seemed to make him even more susceptible to her almost luring behaviours.

Oh Merlin, the way her breath had ghosted across his face.

He tensed, shaking his head in confusion. This was definitely not a healthy addiction. And an addiction it was. An addiction he would get over, an addiction that had already gone too far the minute he decided to even _speak_ to her without venom.

An addiction that he needed to forget.

She wasn't even worth the ground she stood on let alone his thoughts.

His hand found its way to his dishevelled hair once more and he madly pulled at it. When on earth did this even _happen?_ How did he get so close?

_Close enough to kiss her,_ he thought bitterly. And kiss her he did. And now all he could taste was her smooth tongue ghosting over his lower lip, the delectable warmth.

Why.

Why.

Why.

Why couldn't he just go back?

Go back and kiss her again?

No. Go back and ignore her.

She had been one and only physical communication he had other than Snape and it had driven him completely crazy. He remembered his thoughts were consumed with the idea of making her squirm whilst he was brewing his potion of Veritaserum.

And why? Because she was the enemy? Because she was a mudblood?

Fuck, how did she get under his skin? They'd barely spoken, yet still…

Yet here he was; a fucking mess. He mind begged for the idea of alcohol that would remove the shame in his system but he had no drops left. There was nothing stopping the nightmares and terrors that flooded the night or numb the pain of being nothing during the day.

His eyes were heavy with weariness as he sank to the ground of a corridor on Merlin knows what floor.

He closed his eyes and woke up to the sound of eerie laughter and footsteps echoing across the floor. Obviously the Quidditch dunderheads were back.

Quickly pulling himself up, he smoothed out his robes and walked away without a heartbeats notice.

He had a decision. He would treat her just like an addiction for any other person, object or substance. He would forget her because she wasn't worth his thoughts. Because he'd only become obsessed with her only from his complete lack of human interaction other than her.

Simple and easy. He would forget her. Simple and easy. Simple and easy.

But she tasted dangerously delicious.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Hermione stared blankly at where he stood moments before, only the whispers of his scent gave any indication that he was here a moment earlier.

Her hands shook as she moved to reach for the lock that was in front of her eyes and pulled it back behind her ear, smoothing her dishevelled features to calm and collected manner.

Jesus Christ. How did that even happen? And what did it matter that it did? His clean, fresh fragrance of rain on new grass sent a burning sensation through her nostrils. His pale fingers that reached so infinitesimally close but did not touch. The way his body tensed immediately before and immediately after.

Hermione sighed. What was she doing? She should have nothing to do with him. And yet he somehow found her. Or maybe she'd found him?

He was still that arrogantly familiar boy she'd known for the past 6 years of her life. She'd known, not hated, but goddamn close to it. And now, she sure as hell thought the best place for him to be at the current time would be under her wand tip.

And she was nothing to him. This was probably just his sick idea of messing with her head.

Oh god, was she that weak? To be so easily bent to his sick notions and cruel jokes the minute Harry and Ron left?

Was she that easily manipulated?

She stared back out to the grey expanse before her, a few ripples dancing across the otherwise pristine plane as autumn leaves penetrated the surface, sunk, and quickly bounced back up once more to float peacefully across.

She wondered what it'd be like to just float easily, without tidal waves, without stormy winds. She wondered if she was just another ordinary muggle, would she feel so completely lonely even in the most claustrophobic situations?

Malfoy had definitely come too close for comfort for that completely fraction of a second, but for that instant, Hermione had felt herself relax, tense, pull back, and push forwards, all at once.

She shook her head wildly, long curls falling back to frame her face once more. No, Draco Malfoy definitely did not want her and if he did, she didn't want him.

And he, Draco Malfoy, was nothing because he didn't matter in the grand scheme of things. Because all that mattered right now was Voldemort.

Draco Malfoy didn't matter. And she wouldn't be wasting her precious time on him.

This was not the reason her friends had left her here. Albeit they left her here to get her out of the way or what they called 'her safety' however to entertain Malfoy and his games wasn't on the agenda.

It was a mistake, a mistake to get that close, a mistake to kiss him back, but not a mistake to forget that this had ever happened.

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* * *

><p>.<p>

The rest of the weekend passed uneventfully as Hermione did little but lay on her bed looking out the arched window in her room. The dark ruins of a cabin lay in the distance by the forbidden forest, a silent reminder of the missing of Hagrid and an even bigger reminder of the fact that things wouldn't be so calm for very long.

Hermione could already feel the niggling at the back of her mind telling her that time was almost up.

Time for the war to begin.

The walls of Hogwarts were silent with the groaning sense of disaster at the very structure of the castle.

All was at an almost eerie peace until the silence was destroyed with the mere presence of a pale and completely devoid of emotion Malfoy as he strolled casually into the room and found an empty seat to sit without company.

She focused her attention back to directly in front of her. His presence radiating off him in waves.

She could almost feel his molten grey eyes impassively sweeping over the room and landing at the back of her head for a few moments before he tore his gaze away.

Hermione sighed deeply as she felt a body sit itself beside her and the lesson started without a single peak back.

She found herself leaving her seat immediately as soon as the bell rang to signal the end of yet another boorish class. Head down, she swiftly manoeuvred her way across the criss-cross of haphazardly scattered desks.

And before she could stop herself, an all too warm body was before and she found herself looking down at his plain black school shoes before the books were knocked out of her hand.

"Mother of fuck," Draco cursed as a particularly large book cut across his arm as he reached out to balance himself.

Hermione immediately whipped her head up to meet his scorching gaze that seemed to make her almost melt into his warm welcoming arms.

He stared back at her quizzically as she tried to take a step back but instead he reached out to grab her arm which she immediately jerked off and he pulled it away as if she'd burnt him.

She quickly shook her hand and sidestepped him to walk out of the room, the feathery tingle of where the touch of his hand lingered.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

_Yeah great job, Malfoy. You totally did well in avoiding her. First class you're in with her you 'accidentally' bump in to her. Real smooth, _he scolded himself.

Fuck why did he just _gravitate_ towards her? It was like he was drawn to her.

He'd always been drawn to her of course; he'd just refused to admit it. She'd always been something of interest. Completely filthy of course, but she always seemed, different?

Oh he was pathetic.

Yeah, ignore her. Great plan.

Draco shook his head in frustration, running his hands through his hair. How hard was it to just ignore her in a school this big with this many students?

He didn't even _want_ to see her. But apparently the world had different plans didn't they?

No. He didn't want to see her let alone talk to her. He wanted absolutely nothing to do with her, and she should want absolutely nothing to do with him for that matter.

She had been fucking shunned by him as well as everyone else he knew, deatheaters, Voldemort, Slytherins, in which he was guilty with association. And he, as well as she, knew that the time would come when what they called, 'his side' would fight against hers and he and she could too little to change that.

She would want little to do with him, not now, not ever. And neither did he.

He bet if he disappeared forever nobody would notice.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Draco strolled along the deserted hallways, knuckles skimming over the curve of his cheek in numb thought. His eyes were dilated from complete and utter deprivation and reflected someone crazed.

His body struggled to hold him up as exhaustion consumed him. Sleepless nights had passed easily, with each day becoming easier and easier to handle, but somehow he must've snapped and the irresistible pull of the all consuming darkness threatened to pull him under once again.

He didn't know what he'd preferred. Sleep with nightmares or no sleep at all.

His eyes drifted shut until he was peering through his dirty blonde lashes, freckles of dust littering them. His placed his hands on his lap as they trembled and shook uncontrollably, the faint sense of desperation overcoming him. Desperation and desolation. Desolation and desperation.

What was he doing?

Why was he so completely uncontrolled of his actions?

And why was he lying here, so undesirably pathetic. So pathetic that everyone and everything didn't give him even a second glance as they walked by the empty shell of a man.

Pity littered the faint hearted, but Draco Malfoy didn't need pity. He just needed to _leave_.

The stars glittered in the distance, twinkling lights, almost small gifts. The best things in life come free to us, and so did the worst.

The shaking of his body seemed to disappear as a familiar, soothing whiff of something unnatural yet completely natural came to his nostrils.

He felt his muscles loosening, and his eyes closed those few millimetres to shut with no light entering his silver orbs. His hands fell back down, shoulders sunk, head lolling. Mmm, he felt completely relaxed.

But soon, the shaking returned. And this time his body shook with tremors of his own and also of another.

He was faintly aware of warm hands placed delicately, yet firmly on his shoulders.

"Malfoy, ah god, what the hell?" A soft, musical voice drifted into his ears and a faint smile tickled his lips.

"Malfoy, get up." He simply lay there, the tremors of his body seemed to fade away and he lay there contently.

"Malfoy, wake the fuck up or I will hex your arse out of the country."

His eyes snapped open in realisation that this voice wasn't just his sleep-deprived mind playing tricks on him. His eyes immediately met her dark, burning eyes that were laced with panic.

"Granger? What the fu―" And before he could finish, she let go of his shoulders and landed a perfectly well aimed backhand across his face, her knuckles bringing the blood to his cheeks in sharp pain.

His eyes snapped wide open and narrowed once more in seriousness as her large doe eyes watched in shock. He brought his hand to his burning cheek. "Fuck you, Granger," he whispered dangerously.

"Malfoy, I―"

"Get out of my way," he bit sharply as he stood up, leaving her at his feet as he looked tauntingly over her. "I like this, Mudblood, you're exactly where you should be, on the ground below me."

And without a word he stalked off, and she couldn't see the pain reflected in his eyes, the tearing sensation that bit at his heart, the snapping of his conscience that he couldn't explain.

All she could see was his tall back, his high and mighty posture, cold and uninviting.

Hermione curled up, tightly on the wall where he had lain before. She welcomed the all consuming cover of darkness and let it wash over her without resistance. She had hated darkness before, but now, she let it wrap around her. Darkness was full of secrets, but darkness was honest, it didn't pretend to be good. Light was filled with deceit, because although secrets are dealt with the cover of darkness, it's only because the cover of light is already too filled with secrets.

She couldn't believe she'd been stupid enough to be worried. She instantly rushed over to the minute she saw the platinum blonde lying unmoving while she was walking her shift.

But she was an idiot wasn't she? Amazing, smart, intelligent Hermione Granger could be tricked by a snake that was nothing.

He had no right. He was goddamn intimidating but he had _no right_. She and everyone knew that he was rejected by his own kind. He wasn't even good enough to last a year. He was completely and utterly nothing and Merlin, did he have no right to talk like that.

Her heart thudded with his biting words that almost leaked into her system like a poison. She'd gotten used to his comments over the years but this almost seemed so definitively different.

She could feel her mind fighting the harsh sting of his words almost like a disease entering her body.

Something was wrong with her. The castle seemed all too claustrophobic. It surrounded her, it protected her, and it was almost impossible to escape promptly if needed.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

His eyes were cold and withdrawn that day, his body taut, mouth tense. Hardly anyone seemed to notice and those who did only smirked at the great Malfoy cracking.

He'd barely gotten a minute's sleep before the nightmares began once more. His eyelids drooped so his eyes were half closed, his lashes causing shadows to dance across his face from the candlelight.

Hermione was also quite reserved, anxiously glancing around the familiar Potion's classroom, her fingers tapping against the heavy textbook that was undoubtedly stuffed with notes.

The lesson passed uneventfully as the two of them both sat rigidly in their seats, tension seeping out from both of them that seemingly only they could recognise. The air in the room from the fumes of the potion that Slughorn was demonstrating how to prepare was becoming all too unbearable and it seemed to claw at the hairs of their skin.

Nervousness and tension seeped out of the two of them in diverse variety even with the distance between their two bodies.

Hermione swore she could feel her hands still tingling with the warmth of his shoulders and Draco gingerly rubbed the crevice of his shoulders in which her nails had dug into.

She avoided the temptation of glancing back and Draco kept his attention firmly on the round man before him.

The shrill pounding of the bell went off and Hermione felt her body relax, hands unclenching to find 4 tiny crescent marks on the palm of her hand. Languidly packing her books and rearranging her notes, the students easily filed out and as she made her way to the door, the tall, warm, back of a figure was blocking the entrance.

She had a moment's notice before she felt the uncontrollable and sharp tug that left her sprawled on the floor with a very unwelcome person underneath, his foot wrapped tightly around her long scarf that had dragged along the ground prior to.

His eyes were wide and unwelcoming as she paused gasping.

"Are you trying to bump into me, goddamn it?" She snapped.

"Believe me Granger, that is a less than desirable intention of mine," he remarked back. "However, you seem to be doing quite a number on ways to wind up a Malfoy," he hissed.

"What?" She asked in confusion.

"I meant, get off of me Granger, I don't want your filthy paws on me," he responded, scathingly.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the insufferable Slytherin underneath her. She untangled herself from him, forcefully slow just to torture his primitive mindset.

"Fuck you," he said as she finally untangled her limbs from his. She simply shot him a smirk that danced all too fittingly on her full lips.

She made to stand up but immediately gagged as the scarf was still wound tightly around her neck as well as his foot. Sinking back down, she removed the scarf with deft fingers as he watched her with smouldering eyes.

He rolled at his eyes at her unease as she nervously smoothed out her robes.

"You know, Granger. You should learn to relax a little," he teased.

Hermione stared warily back. "And what, end up like you?"

"Ouch, Granger, that hurt," he mocked.

"Oh Malfoy, that's the problem with you. You think everything's a joke, well here's a wake-up call. It's _not._ There are people dying, dying because of you because you are the enemy, dying because of me, because the enemy hates me. And this war is so much broader than your pathetic little rivalries."

Draco rose swiftly and stepped towards her as she stepped back. "Don't make it seem like I don't know. Of _course_ I know. Why else would I be _here_. And why else would I be absolutely nothing, absolutely nobody, absolutely and completely just left to rot with my pitiable life. Pathetic little rivalries, Granger? Well guess what, maybe that's because I am pathetic. Can't you just get it into your head that I don't give one fuck about you, you probably don't give one fuck about me; so can't we just be left to lead our separate paths? I'm pretty sure that our paths won't cross during war because I probably won't _survive _the war unless I hide like a coward. And I may be nothing, but I am not a coward, Granger."

His body was near millimetres from hers and his harsh words and breath ran over her skin, sending chills of ice and fire down her spine.

"That's all beautiful and all and it was quite nice knowing that you believe yourself to be pathetic, but don't kid yourself, Malfoy. You are a coward."

She could practically feel the agitated ripple that ran through his body. "Why do you say that?" He whispered, darkly, almost as if he was daring her to not answer.

"Why else would have caused you to not kill Dumbledore that night? Because you were a _coward_."

And the words bit hard into his skin, running through his system like fiery ice, his body numb as she pushed her way around him and out the door.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

"Draco, time is soon," the headmaster warned.

"What do you mean?" Draco questioned.

"The Dark Lord is becoming stronger," Snape murmured with grave intentions.

"How?"

"I think the Ministry's beginning to become hijacked."

"How do you know?" The blonde enquired further.

"I've received word," Snape pulled up a pink slip from his desk with distaste. "Muggleborns are soon to be 'collected'."

Draco stood stiffly up against the wall. "I understand," he whispered.

"Time is running out," Snape warned once more. "And I sincerely hope you're ready for the blow."

Draco nodded silently in consent and walked out of the office.

**AN: WHOOP WHOOP WHOOP. ANOTHER CHAPTER UP. Yep, this was just a filler, I know, but it's coming along nicely isn't it? Judging by the lack of comment, I'm having doubts.**

**I hope you like it, and if you dont, could you tell me what you don't like about it? I don't want to keep wasting my time.**

**As this is a filler, I know you all know that next chapter is going to be intense. I'm actually really excited about rewriting the next chapter. IT'S TIME FOR THINGS TO GET A LITTLE HEATED.**

**Oh and my previous estimate of about 15 chapters will probably come down to 10-12 by the pace of progression. I'm about halfway through the major plotline.**

**Is it too fast? Tell me what you think!**

**I've been having a rough week, or last 2 days, so your reviews would really make me smile (:**


	6. Desperation

**DISCLAIMER: JK Rowling owns all characters and major plot lines associated with this story. I am not gaining at all from this story other than pure enjoyment from manipulating her characters to do my evil bidding.**

**Chapter 6; Desperation**

Draco found himself shaking in frustration at the witch that had left him in hot rage the moment she had walked out. Didn't she know what she was talking about? For someone who was fighting in the war she sure was naïve.

Or was he the one who was naïve?

He'd once heard during his restless slumbers in various safehouses after his attack, Snape murmuring to a feline cat perched by a mouldy windowsill without glass to keep out the treacherous weather outside.

_"Give him time. He'll realise. He's just naïve, it's harder on him because he'd never really had a slither of doubt. But the time will come, when he will."_

No, he was over thinking this as he always did. He had over-thought the idea of Voldemort torturing him to an inch of his life but that had come to be true didn't it?

But it didn't matter, whatever he thought, it didn't matter. He was one person, one nobody person that nobody gave a shit about. And besides, he had bigger things to worry about, Voldemort for one thing. It was time to start running, and Hogwarts seemed too hard to escape with the corridors and grounds crawling with people, with the winding hallways, the teachers stalking the halls looking for any hint of misbehaviour. Hogwarts was all too claustrophobic, safe sure, maybe, but definitely difficult to escape from.

Draco walked away from the Headmaster's office and back to his dorm room, never looking back. Well maybe a glance.

He'd need to practice that for later.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Hermione suppressed the urge to gag as a stuck up dirty blonde sauntered his way over to her across the Potion's classroom coincidentally half an hour before class.

"So, Hermione, I heard DA was back on?" He smirked.

"If it is, it's none of your business Zacharias," Hermione responded, coldly.

"And why is that?" The cocky demeanour of the Hufflepuff shone through.

"You made your thoughts on the group clear enough in 5th year," she shot back.

The blonde narrowed his dull eyes at her and she simply smiled back. "Well I want in again and _you're _not the leader so you have no say in this anyway. Can't go running off to Potter again, can you?"

Hermione shot him a vicious glare responded only with a smug smile from him. "Shut it, Smith."

"Anyway, Michael told me to come to you for what to say to get into the Room."

She shrugged. "I don't know. Never heard anything about it."

Zacharias stepped forwards towards her, an ugly sneer plastered onto his face. "Come on, Hermione. Just give it."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she bit back.

He moved even closer and she tried to lean back without seeming cowardly. "I know you don't want me there, but. Give. It. To. Me."

Hermione turned her head away from his rancid breath, her eyes still defiant. "Well I. Don't. Have. It."

He chuckled mockingly, "Oh come on, Hermione," he purred her name. "We all know that you're nothing without Potter and Weasley."

She opened her mouth to speak but no words came out except for the hiss of her breath.

"Ooh, did I hit a soft spot there, Muggleborn?" He leered at her.

Hermione glared back but before she could retort, the distasteful blonde staggered back from a firm grip on his arm by pale fingers.

"Didn't your mother teach you not to harass women?" The assailant drawled.

"Nick off, Malfoy. _Hermione_ and I were just talking," Zacharias diverted his attention away from her.

"Well it's obvious that _Hermione_ doesn't want to talk to you anymore," Draco remarked casually, raising his eyebrows and taunting the idiocy of the Hufflepuff.

"Malfoy, stop it," Hermione replied. "I'm still here you know."

"Shhh… Princess," Draco dismissed, eyes still focused intently on the dirty blonde.

She stared blankly at him in surprise before shooting him a vicious glare.

Zacharias scoffed. "Trouble in paradise?"

"Shut it, and get out of my sight."

"I'm not sure who you are, Malfoy, but did you forget that you're no longer the great and almighty Draco Malfoy anymore?" He taunted.

Draco narrowed his eyes. He really didn't like this sack of shit. "Fuck off, Smith. That may be true, but I'm still Head Boy remember?" He smirked, tapping the badge that glinted malevolently.

The Hufflepuff glared haughtily at him yet there was a tiny inkling of doubt that made his gaze falter.

"Now get out of my sight until class starts," Draco threatened, dangerously.

Zacharias gave a small protest of indignation before stalking out of the classroom.

"Malfoy, you arrogant son of a bitch." She started the minute the door closed, walking and stopping menacingly close.

Draco widened his eyes. "He was bothering you. I'm sorry if I have the decency to not harass witches."

"Oh right yeah, Malfoy, because you _certainly_ don't make women uncomfortable," she said, her words laced with sarcasm, eyes glinting angrily.

"Fuck off. What's the matter with what I did anyway?"

"What's the matter? What's the matter?" She practically shrieked. "You practically demeaned me right there, you scumbag! You made me seem like I was helpless."

"Helpless enough to be trapped by that bastard."

"I could've handled it," she gritted out.

Draco was beginning to get angry at the stubborn witch. Did she have to refuse any help she got? "Yeah, I could totally see him backing off," his voice dripped with scorn.

"You're so thick, Malfoy!" She exclaimed.

"Right, and you're any different?" He retorted.

"I can take care of myself!"

"Sure you can," he scoffed.

She forced a step closer, a little too close than what he'd prefer as he observed the tiny golden flecks in her irises in curiosity. "Look, Malfoy, I'm used to people thinking that I'm helpless and I need people protecting me. And I've just gone along with it but look where that's ended me! I'm here, stuck at Hogwarts, just like you and every other pathetic idiot."

He almost involuntarily leaned forwards to her luring scent.

"But you, Malfoy, I could always trust on to not give one thought before hurting me, throwing an insult, shooting a hex. You're a cold and heartless bastard, and that is exactly what I counted you to be. Impossible to love, impossible to care for."

He could count the lashes of her eyes if he tried, but they were far too thick and heavy for it to be easy.

"Are you even listening to me, Malfoy?" She whispered, dangerously smooth as it glided across his ear.

She waited for a response, searching those cold, stone eyes that seemed to swirl with the same density of mercury. Shaking her head in frustration she turned around, her hair once again, grazing the sharp slope of his nose granting him with a strong whiff of her familiar perfume.

Draco shook himself out of his trance as he felt at loss from the lack of body heat. He observed her turned back hungrily, licking his lips. "What did he want?"

"What?" She said; turning around back to face him.

"What did Smith want?" He asked forcefully.

"Nothing," she murmured.

"Nothing?"

"Nothing! Why are you questioning me?" She defended, staring at his now slate grey eyes.

"Because that sack of shit is a menace to society," he drawled, stepping forwards back towards her familiar warmth.

"Hah," she scoffed, "Says the pureblood who called the mudblood a princess."

He took another step forwards, this time his intent less noble. His eyes were as dark as storm clouds, clicking with electricity. She was practically a hairs breath away. Remember what happened last time she was this close? He mentally shook of those thoughts.

If she was bothered by their proximity, she didn't budge, but he could swear he could feel her body tense infinitesimally, almost as if she was preparing for battle. He tilted his head slightly as he observed her and the room seemed to fill with static from frustration and things unknown.

"Fuck you, Granger," he whispered menacingly.

"That would be my least desirable intention… Malfoy," she copied his familiar cocky inflection.

Draco narrowed his eyes at the stubborn witch. So the kitty cat wanted to play? He circled her almost like a predator and its prey. "Wouldn't you like to know what my intentions with you are," he murmured, barely audible, but close enough to her ear for her to hear every dripping word laced with sedatives and shudder at his hot breath.

"Malfoy," she whispered warningly.

"So tell me again, _princess_," he said just to provoke her and smirked as she flinched. "Why were you talking to Zacharias Smith?"

"It was hardly talking," she rolled her eyes.

"Granger," he said between clenched teeth and she cringed away from him as she noticed how tense his muscles were. "I asked you a question and you better fucking answer it."

"Fine!" She exclaimed. "But I've already told you, it was nothing!"

"Sure as hell didn't look like nothing," he hissed harshly.

"Why do you care anyway?" She demanded, refusing to back down, her fiery eyes stared back with as much fervour as his.

His brows furrowed. Exactly, why did he care? His breathing was harsh against her neck. He was being fucking deprived, he saw no human contact and the ones that he did have were mere pathetic insults. She was all that he'd seen, her fucking scent had driven him mad, the soft coils of her hair that had so often whipped across his face and that fucking Hufflepuff wasn't going to get a single inch of it. No, he was not jealous. Not jealous of the fact that others could just interact so easily with her. No, he was not jealous. Jealously meant that he must've had her at some point. No, just rage, possessive rage. Because _he_was the only one who could make his mudblood uncomfortable. Salazar save him if he was getting these pathetic possessive tendencies towards the mudblood. It'd taken only a soft graze of lips and boy, did his body react to that. But he didn't want to touch her again, _ever_ again. Ever ever ever again.

"Malfoy," she clicked her tongue, snapping him out of his train of thought, bringing him back to the unmoving gaze of her smooth, liquid silk eyes that sparked with energy. The eyes that had locked against his so frequently, so intensely, that had danced before him. The way they would search his and for those few seconds he felt vulnerable. He was barely aware of her growing discomfort as he leaned closer, the sickly perfume of her hair burning his nostrils as they invaded his senses, the slight curve of her lip trembled and creased as she bit it nervously, bright pearly whites against rosy red, like newly shed blood on fresh snow. Long thick lashes fluttered as wisps of hair drifted onto her face. He could feel the feverish warmth of her body, the slight curve of her hip barely grazing his thigh.

She tilted her head infinitesimally to look at him and before he could stop, his lips crashed onto hers roughly with pure frustration as she released her bottom lip in a gasp of shock at his invading tongue. His body stepped forwards and crushed against hers as she was pushed back to the edge of a desk. His hands immediately left his side and moved to tightly grasp her hips to hold her onto his wanton body. He was lost in a haze of blind emotion, barely aware of her hands in his hair until she grazed a nail down the base of his neck and he shuddered against her lips as she pushed back with the same fervour matching his own. His hands found the small of her back and pressed her up against him even tighter, so tight that she could barely breathe, the sharp tang of her tongue on his lips as he bruised her lips with rough kisses. Her taste was intoxicating and he felt like he wanted to drown in it forever as their tongues danced together in a private tango, lips match for match, sigh for sigh, pant for pant. He gently grazed his teeth against her lower lip and he felt her tremble in his arms, giving a slight sigh which he swallowed and instantly, right there and then, he thought that was the best fucking feeling in the world.

He felt her hands putting pressure against his chest and he could feel her mouth protesting. Releasing her lips with a low groan he found himself gasping for her alongside her, her harsh breaths tickling the base of his neck.

Hermione's eyes widened in shock, what did she just do? Sure, he kissed her, but oh Godric, she'd kissed him back! He'd _kissed _her. Again. "Malfoy, what the hell?"

He watched the clogs turn in her head, smirking at her passion bruised lips and he simply shrugged.

"Malfoy! Don't you understand what you just did?" She exclaimed.

He simply watched her intently.

"Oh Merlin, Malfoy. Are you even―" She immediately stopped when she noticed his dilated eyes blind with lust and his panting breath.

Shaking her head in frustration she turned to leave but not before a vice like grip found her wrist. She turned around to face his stormy eyes that glittered like rare diamonds. "Wait," he said, ever so softly.

She furrowed her brow in confusion. Did he want to mock her for being such an idiot too?

"Meet me," he blurted.

"What?"

"Meet me. Tonight," he said almost calmly but his eyes raged like a fresh storm.

"Why?" She murmured.

"Why, Granger? Why? Does it matter? Just meet me. Please," he said almost desperately, the cool, calm and collected Malfoy crumbling.

"I―" She paused. "Malfoy, but it doesn't make sense."

He watched her, eyes burning with intensity, sparks flying. She wasn't going to. He knew it. I mean why would she? But his entire essence at this minute was focused on _her_.

She was watching him intently. Her warm brown eyes questioning. Watching the thoughts flash past his eyes.

And before he could speak, Hermione took in his tortured expression and leaned forwards, reaching for his tie to pull him down, down towards her waiting lips where she hungrily devoured his. Draco opened his eyes in shock and watched in fascination at her closed lids, her lashes fluttering. He felt something glide across his lower lip and groaned low in his throat, eyes fluttering closed as she bit down.

She quickly released his lips in surprise as he stood there, eyes hungrily on hers. His lust ridden orbs seemed to crackle with electricity as he stared at her intently, her breath coming in short pants, breezing past his face as he inhaled her scent.

"Is that a good enough reason?" He said, giving a lopsided grin.

She merely stood there speechless and Draco took that for acceptance.

"At 11 tonight. By the statue of Sir Balthazar on the seventh floor," he said calmly once more, his eyes revealing his trembling core as he simply looked at her with a pained expression.

"What if someone asks?" She questioned, able to speak once more, not even granting the possibility that she wouldn't go.

By then he managed to regain his composure, his body slowly rebuilding his mask of indifference once more. "You're Head Girl and I'm Head Boy. Nobody's going to ask."

The shrill bell rung signalling the beginning of class, startling her but he barely moved. She turned back to face him and all that was there was the confident stature and composed nature of a Malfoy, almost like he'd gone through nothing involving a certain _mudblood_ at all, some hairs out of place sure, but seemingly purposefully _in_ place.

As she turned to move to her desk she could've sworn a faint murmur breeze past. "Be there," the haggard voice glided across, smooth as silk.

Draco turned to walk calmly back to his seat to wait for the rest of the class to arrive. _Salazar help him._

_._

* * *

><p>.<p>

Was he out of his fucking mind?

Malfoy men did not do this. They did not chase after women. And a muggleborn never the less.

And oh yes, did Draco chase her. He wouldn't dare to admit out loud that he'd seen her leave the Great Hall far too early and decided to follow her. He just wished to see what she was up to.

And there goes his pathetic resolve to keep away from her.

She was a waste of time, but his entire body seemed to be ignoring that fact.

His eyes remained cool and focused as the remainder of the class poured in unaware of his complete breakdown of senses. Fucking hell. Why did she have to be so alluring? The way that the heat of her body felt against his was fucking delicious and she smelt practically _edible_.

Pursing his lips in concentration he sighed deeply, straightened his back, looked away from the head of dishevelled hair in which he had just recently tangled his fingers into and straight forwards, face devoid of any emotion, just like Malfoy men were.

She wouldn't come. He knew it. But he couldn't help but wait…

To see if she would.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

It was 11 o'clock.

It was 11 o'clock.

It was 11 o'clock.

Hermione shook her head, focusing her energy back on her parchment, the steady drip of ink from her quill littering her essay.

It was 11 o'clock.

She turned away from the clock that seemed to stare expectantly at her. No. Why would she go anyway? She doubted he would be there.

It was 11 o'clock.

She continued to look back at her textbook for information to add to her essay. Look, why should she even be bothered by this? He had no right. No right to kiss her and make her so utterly confused. She should be worrying about other things. Her friends, her parents, the _war_. She shouldn't be sitting here worrying about things as fickle as one Draco Malfoy.

For a cold blooded snake he sure was warm.

No.

But the way his lips felt so soft, firm, so heated, so fragile, so strong.

No.

The way his body enveloped hers. The way his hands gripped her hips. The way they'd tangled in her hair.

No.

How soft his hair was. Like locks of baby feathers.

Oh Godric help her.

She placed the quill messily into the pot of ink as she stood up from her seat.

She was wasting her time thinking about this. Glancing uneasily at the clock, it read 11.05. Hermione's brows furrowed. Why was she even contemplating this?

She moved towards the ornate mirror beside her study desk. Look, it was too late now. He wouldn't even be there. Why did he even want her there? Make her feel worse? She'd gotten trapped in the game of a snake.

She stared back at herself through the mirror. A mirror never lied and it certainly wasn't lying right now. Why the fuck did Draco Malfoy want to mess with her? She wasn't special, she didn't look perfect, she was just mediocre. With brown hair, brown eyes, average nose, average lips. Nothing about her was particularly special. So why did he want her other than for his own sick pleasure?

She knew she was nothing special. She was smart, sure, but that's probably because nobody really had the chance to understand how amazing knowledge was. It was something that you carried around everywhere with you.

And she would've been perfectly ordinary if she was a muggle. No magic, just another girl with ordinary dentist parents.

And what did an ordinary girl have anything to do with Harry Potter and the impending war?

She sighed, sitting on her bed, continuing to look at herself in the mirror. Her hair fell in an array of curls on her shoulders, sliding past to stop just below her chest. She frowned, confident Gryffindor? Where was that? She was confident, yes, but not of herself. She was confident because that's how you hide your insecurities.

She glanced back at the clock. 11.30.

It was too late.

But Hermione sighed deeply, her lashes brushing her cheeks as shadows danced across her face.

He'd felt so bloody good on her. The way his nimble fingers had run across her skin, the way his hot, wet tongue danced with hers, the quick nips of her bottom lip to the long drags that left her gasping.

His pearly white skin and silver hair.

Godric save her.

She jumped off her bed, her sheets falling messily onto the floor and Hermione did not spare a thought to care.

Glancing hurriedly at the clock, it read 11.35. Grabbing a scarf, she looped it around her neck before hurrying out the door, down the stairs, past the few students who were rushing to complete their work before dawn and out the portrait.

She cursed the castle for being so big as she hurriedly walked up staircases and past curious portraits. He probably wasn't going to be there anyway.

He probably wasn't going to be there. He wasn't going to be there. She could feel herself slowing down as the feeling her chest constricted, rounding the last corner to the long corridor where the statue of Sir Balthazar stood at the end of.

And right there, sunken to the floor was a head of unkempt silvery locks of feathery hair. Hermione paused, her footsteps halting and it seemed like her breath echoed down the long stone hallway as she watched in shock.

His head was in his hands and he was curled up, just like she was a few months back, just like he was a few weeks back.

She hesitantly stepped forwards and the footfall echoed across the stone and she could almost feel him tense.

She could feel the tension radiating off him in waves and she sucked in a deep gulp of hair, holding her breath as he slowly lifted his head to face her.

She immediately glimpsed the tell tale silvery eyes that glittered like rare diamonds and before she could stop herself, she found herself racing down the corridor as he stood up in shock.

Why was she here? She couldn't possibly be here. She couldn't possibly be _real_.

He took a step forwards just as she reached him and he wrapped his arms tightly and protectively around her, holding her tight.

"Holy shit, you came," he murmured into her luscious curls, trembling as her body fitted into his, a few little chinks where her hip bones dug into his skin but nothing was perfect anyway.

Her nails were digging into his back where they would sure to leave tiny crescent moons.

"Holy shit, I came," she murmured into his neck.

He let out a hoarse laugh and pulled away from her, her bright glittering orbs framed by long dark lashes. "Oh Merlin," he murmured, throat constricting.

"What?" She questioned.

"This cannot be real."

"You didn't think I would be here." She stated simply and he nodded back. "Well, I didn't think I would be here either."

He gave her a crooked grin like a crooked snake.

"Why did you tell me to come?" She asked.

"I don't know, Granger. And I don't think you'd trust a Slytherin's answer either way," he responded, gaze steady on her.

She blushed in realisation and he watched the pale blush crawl up her cheeks like licking flames. "Fair point, Draco."

His head snapped to attention as she absentmindedly trailed a finger along the hem of his school shirt.

"Say that again," he murmured, barely above a whisper as the howling winds outside carried it to her.

"What?" She looked up, confused up at him, noticing the pained way he'd swallowed, the muscles in his jaw, the slight suction of his high cheeks.

"Say that again," he stated.

"Say what?"

"Granger. Say it again," he forced out between clenched teeth, the raging storm in his eyes focused on hers.

"Draco, I don't know what you're talking―" She began but she was cut off.

By Draco's crashing lips as he pushed her up against the wall roughly, his lips claiming hers greedily, hands running wildly up and down her sides, drawing in her warmth with hungry awkward clashes of teeth and tongue between lips.

He moaned into her lips, lost, as she too lost herself in a kiss that pulled him deeper into the abyss of some yet undefined, slightly terrifying emotion.

His fingers trailed down her sides to grip tightly against her hips which had lifted off the cold stone wall. His mouth planting hot, wet kisses down her neck as her fingers ran through his hair.

He needed to stop this madness but the thoughts were pushed aside as she whimpered against his lips.

His hands gently grazed the underside of her breasts through the fabric as she arched her back against him, her fingernails clawing at the base of his neck as he ground his hips against hers, feeling himself grow hard.

He really need to pull away. He _should_. But he simply _couldn't_. She was irresistible. So fucking irresistible.

But she did what he couldn't.

He almost groaned at the sudden loss of contact as she tore her lips away before raising her hand to slap him. _Hard_.

He stumbled to the opposite wall of the narrow hallway from the impact, mouth open wide in shock..

Hermione limbs shook underneath her weight as her lip trembled, her gaze fixed on his.

"What the hell, Malfoy!" She exclaimed. "Don't I repulse you? Don't you hate me? Don't you think I'm the scum of the earth? She hissed condemningly, eyes flashing dangerously.

He looked at her with hazy eyes, observing the steady rise and fall of her chest. And he realised, that all he wanted to do at this current moment was to return to her unforgiving warmth. "What the fuck is wrong with me?" He said to himself.

She simply stared back, the adrenaline beginning to fade. He looked exhausted and she could see the faint tremble of his lip. Almost as if he was trying to _physically_ stop himself from returning back to her body and holding her.

"Can you even _comprehend _what you do to me? Fuck. It's like I'm practically going mad and I'm talking to _you_ of all people," he rambled to himself. "I GIVE UP! I CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE!" He shouted, his breath hot against her cheek.

"Maybe we're all going insane," she said and he looked up, not expecting her to respond. "This place. It's as if…" She gestured to the walls of Hogwarts before trailing off. "It never stops. The loathing. You hate yourself for being weak, for not trying harder. It's dauntingly claustrophobic. This place is a haven and a prison."

He was watching her with amazement in his glittering orbs as she stood up; his eyes followed her, all the way to the end of the corridor where she disappeared around the corner.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Hermione collapsed up against the wall of her room, exhausted by the mercurial wizard that had left her panting. Did he have to have such an effect on her? It wasn't rational. And Hermione Granger was always rational, despite the circumstances.

She'd have to learn to stop being so forgiving and forgiving Draco Malfoy wasn't something you could turn back on.

But he'd tasted so sinfully delicious.

**AN. First of all, OH HELLA YEAH. This was quite a long chapter and I'm surprised I wrote it so quickly. NOW DON'T DISS ME ON MY UPDATE SPEED ANYMORE.**

**Secondly, I am a comma guru, I put comma's everywhere. Even if you don't need it. I'm sorry if it's annoying, and I try to cut down on them when I'm beta-ing my own story haha.**

**And thirdly, nothing. Have a good day (:**


	7. Filth

**DISCLAIMER: JK ROWLING AND I ARE TWO SEPARATE ENTITIES AND I AM MERELY USING HER CHARACTERS FOR MY OWN SICK AMUSEMENT. THE GORGEOUS, FABULOUS, AMAZING JK ROWLING OWNS ALL AND I AM PURELY MANIPULATING CHARACTERS.**

**Chapter 7; Filth**

Draco kicked the blankets off his bare torso as he tossed agitatedly on his bed, welcoming the sharp sting of the morning cold. His head thudded painfully from his restless night where the familiar bright flashes of light that resembled deadly spells shot across his mind and the metallic taste of blood intruded his senses. He gingerly sat up, sweat droplets that littered his bare chest cooling in the arctic wind that blew in from his open windows. His head began to fuzz and he found himself swaying as black dots crept along the edges of his vision.

He was so fucking exhausted, ridden with fatigue, completely shattered. He always was. The nights of self-induced insomnia that kept him away from the nightmares began its steady journey to his health.

He shrugged into a sweater without a shirt beneath, it wasn't like anybody noticed or cared that the pale wizard would sometimes tremble in class or shudder violently if he stood up too fast. Nobody noticed the heavy movements of his legs, the purple bruises under his eyes that smeared his pristine snowy features and if anybody did, they didn't care or were probably laughing at his dishevelled state.

_The great Draco Malfoy wasn't so great anymore was he? _They'd whisper loudly whenever he passed, with sneering looks plastered on their fake faces.

He'd thought the students of Hogwarts would get past it. It'd been months goddamn it. Draco slumped against the wall, his body shuddering from exhaustion and withdrawal symptoms from the lack of what used to be his consistent firewhiskey. He was deteriorating right at the place where he was meant to be recovering. Hogwarts sanctuary his arse. The place was a fucking torture vessel.

He was lucky he made it out alive, they'd said.

He didn't feel so lucky right now.

The pale morning glow from the first rays of sunlight shone through the dark, grey clouds, the same colour as a particular wizard's eyes.

Draco slipped out of his private dorm room and out the portrait hole, walking down the frosty stone dungeon hallways that reeked with damp cold as his harsh warm breath solidified in vapours before him.

His footsteps echoed against floor in the eerily silent sleeping castle. He made his way to the lake, his feet crunching on the dead autumn leaves as he sat down at his place right at the edge of the icy black contents that lapped gently a few inches from where he resided.

The lake was so familiar. The exact place easily recognisable as vivid memories rushed by his line of vision. Memories which were too vivid for his own liking. Tortured screams that were recognisable as his own filled his eardrums, the searing pain, the spreading numbness, the relentless curses, bellows of laughter, and then left alone to die; it was like a conscious nightmare.

But, right there, at the fringes of his mind, a niggling feeling seemed to tickle the memories away as warmth spread through his core. A mess of brown curls, the painted rosy lips, the feverish contact of skin. It was as if a warm force was driving away everything that had leaden his heart over the past few months.

Closing his eyes, he surrendered to the pleasant feeling spreading from his core, his proud shoulders sagging, blonde locks falling, lashes fluttering shut. He felt the familiar darkness pulling him under once more, and he offered no resistance but before he could slip into the folds of complete silent bliss that he hadn't had a minute of since the end of last year, a very unwelcome noise rustled him from his thoughts.

"Guess what I heard last night? Father heard from Avery that the whole lot of the Malfoy clan were a bunch of blood traitors," the weedy figure proclaimed loudly over hearty guffaws.

Draco looked up just in time to see the figure to note the student by the lake with tell-tale snowy features and platinum hair.

"Well well well, if it isn't the heir itself," the group exclaimed, strolling leisurely to Draco as he got up, brushing wayward leaves off his robes, straightening his back, his face trained into a collected mask.

"What do you want, Theo?" He said coolly.

The boy grinned looking back at his companions. "Aren't you a little low on the ranks to be addressing me by my first name?"

Draco narrowed his eyes at his fellow Slytherin. "Shame, because last I heard, your Mother was back at the Malfoy Manor with my _Father_ in the summer before 6th year," he replied coldly.

"Shut it, Malfoy. Don't speak about Mother like that." Theodore Nott hissed, his beady little eyes fixated on Draco as his companions stopped laughing like a bunch of buffoons.

"Did I hit a soft spot there, Theo?" Draco smirked, stepping towards the glowering Slytherin.

"Get out of my face, you traitor. I heard your parents don't even care about you enough to come looking for you. Probably trying to save their asses from the Dark Lord, I bet," Theo remarked, scathingly.

The blonde shot him a glare. His parents were old news. He was as good as dead to them and the Malfoy heir was no longer any son of theirs. "I wouldn't go on saying things about other's parents when you've got yourself a whore of a Mother and a Father who would rather you die under the Dark Lord than have you in the way of his business _conquest partners_."

Theo stared back with the same intensity, the vein prominent on his jaw. "Fuck you, Draco. I don't care what you say about my parents because you know what? You're just a traitor and fucking _filth_. Filth to our side and also filth to the other side. Nobody wants you, and you are _nothing_. You hear me?" And with a quick signal to his burly companions that stood behind him, the figures of Warrington, Flint, Crabbe and Goyle moved towards Draco menacingly.

Draco stepped back and whipped out his wand from his pocket to find his ankles tied together and with another flick of Nott's wand, his hands. "Nott, you fucker," Draco hissed as the 4 Slytherins picked up Draco with as much regard as a sack of potatoes and swung him out into the arctic contents of the expansive Black Lake.

Draco hit the surface with a shudder as the icy water pierced his skin and he tugged at his binds, his mouth barely above surface as he began sinking, the Slytherins on shore walking away with sneers on their faces. "Well you know what!" Draco shouted, loud enough for them to hear. "I hear your Mother's filthy in bed too!"

His shaking hands were still gripping his wand as he clumsily cut through the binds on his hands, drawing blood from his wrists and arms from messy cuts, but it was far too cold to feel any pain other than the searing heat that the cold unleashed on his skin. His hands then reached to undo the binds on his ankles before swimming back to shore, eyes stinging, body movements slow but Draco was grateful that the lake still wasn't cold enough to completely hinder him unlike a particularly familiar time last winter.

He dragged himself up onto shore, hands shaking as he coughed out remnants of the sea water and watched almost absentmindedly as droplets of scarlet red blood trickled down his hand.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Hermione woke up bright and early for classes. _Too early_, she thought as she glanced blearily at the clock on her bedside table.

She wondered what Harry and Ron were doing right now. Probably falling for some trap that led them directly to Voldemort himself by their luck.

No. She trusted Harry's intuition. And she trusted him to be safe. And she had trusted him to be her friend but he seemed to have little idea of what she needed and trusted him to do for her. Instead she was trapped at Hogwarts.

She shook her head. She needed to stop having such negative thoughts, but how could she not when there was nothing she could hold on to? She didn't have her parents, she didn't have her best friends, she didn't even have Dumbledore with his twinkling eyes to help.

She had nothing to do, nothing to protect, nothing to save, nothing. She was left rotting in a place that had once been her home.

Research horcruxes her arse. Not when she couldn't even keep in touch with them. She had nothing, zero, nil, zilch.

The war was coming and she had little idea what she needed to do to prepare. She knew she needed to prepare, she was sent here for protection and to begin training for the upcoming war but how could she when she didn't even know _what_ she was meant to be preparing for?

What was a war even? She knew nothing, and Hermione guessed it was to remain like that judging from the complete lack of communication from the Order.

It was definitely approaching, coming nearer and nearer. She heard whispered rumours, of Voldemort becoming stronger, gaining followers, gaining magical beasts, gaining _power_. She heard nothing of the sort from the Order. She didn't hear the Order gaining followers, gaining help from the magical creatures or gaining power. Hermione had no idea what to do and she was completely at loss.

She had no plan. No plan on how to leave when the time came, where she would go. Hogwarts was almost an all-consuming stature that threatened to cave in.

And yet Malfoy was calmly walking down the corridors without a single worry on his arrogant face. If you thought that once someone was thrown down to the floor as filth would change them, you'd be wrong.

She saw the cracking of his carefully cultivate façade, she saw the way his hands trembled, the way his teeth chattered silently yet he seemed to manage, despite all that to make it seem as if all was well. She saw him break, she _definitely_ saw him break and he picked it all up again.

She envied him. Hermione Granger envied him. For being stronger than her. For her being weaker than him.

She remembered the fire licking across her skin as he touched her. The way his silky smooth hands with rough calluses glided across her feverish skin like cool silk over steel talons. His haggard breath that defined the moment of his self ripping apart at the very seams.

She may not be completely perfect at disguise like the seemingly collected Malfoy, but she was not someone to be played with. Not this close to the end. Not when she needed to focus.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Draco's knuckles clenched as the scarlet blood dried up at his wounds, the familiar stinging sensation of exposed flesh fading away as the blood began to crust up.

Filth.

Draco's teeth gritted together painfully as his fists clenched painfully, knuckles stark white and nails digging into his skin.

He was not filthy. His mudblood was filthy.

His mudblood. He liked the sound of that.

His Granger.

Fuck he was going insane. The walls of Hogwarts were driving him crazy.

This was not fucking normal.

He was not thinking of her.

Not _again_.

Oh sweet Merlin, but why did she have to be so addictive? A drug that lulled all his senses to sleep and broke them into a frenzied fire.

Salazar save him.

She was filth. He shouldn't even be thinking of her. She didn't deserve him or rather, _he_ didn't deserve _her. _ Someone so completely _right_. He was filth. She was, oh Merlin, she was perfection.

He remembered the way her eyes flashed with passion when she talked, the way her hair fell messily yet so faultlessly past her shoulders, the familiar scent that reminded him of his Mother's garden that burnt his nostrils whenever he was near enough. And he wished he was near enough now.

Fuck he was going mad. Mad like the doddering old fool Dumbledore. Mad like a crazed beast. And you know what he craved at this very second?

Her.

His heart thudded painfully in his chest as he ascended the staircases two steps at a time, his calves burning, his lungs protesting, all the way to what he knew to be the Gryffindor common room.

It was far too early for anyone to be out of their rooms, so he waited.

He waited for her.

The sun gradually made its way to a point low in the horizon as several straggling Gryffindors exited the portrait hole and passed his disillusioned form as he glanced at the unsuspecting early-birds of the Gryffindor house disdainfully.

His body was slumped lazily against the stone wall, shoulders tense, jaw tight, an internal struggle inside. He needed to leave before he couldn't at all. But he didn't want to leave.

His fists were clenched, chin on his knees with dishevelled hair falling in a silver halo upon his head.

He needed to leave before he couldn't. But fuck, he needed to just see her. To see what was driving him so completely crazy.

He could sense her before he saw her. The familiar whiff of her recognisable perfume invaded his nostrils and made him ache. Fuck, she was so frustrating in so many ways and so completely useless, so why in Salazar's name was he here? She was so frustrating, in so many fucking ways but he still naturally gravitated towards her.

He stood up, body tense, hands clammy and with a fine sheet of sweat on his forehead despite the cold. He still had a chance leave. She couldn't see him yet as he was still underneath the disillusionment charm. But his mouth betrayed him.

"Granger," he murmured, dropping his wand into his pocket, effectively breaking the disillusionment charm.

Hermione turned hesitantly around and saw his stature, proud and tall. She could feel the tension rolling off him in waves. She was about to ask him what was wrong, but she was guessing that she'd find out soon enough.

Draco stood up, gracefully, his eyes burning into hers as he soaked up her almost familiar presence that he'd begun to grow used to. He marvelled the way she seemed to push her shoulders back as if to brace herself, the way her hands fell from her hips to rest limply by her side, the way her eyes seemed to glitter, framed with her dark, thick lashes that danced on her cheeks when she blinked.

Hermione stood in shock as he covered the distance between them in a few long strides that matched one of a cheetah stalking its prey before he forcefully caught her lips and pressed her tense body onto his own.

He sighed as he revelled in the feel of her heated lips that seemed to consume his every thought. She tasted sickly delicious, he thought as he nibbled her lower lip causing a near inaudible moan to disappear between lips. She was a lethal cocktail that left him gasping for air.

Hermione's eyes widened in surprise at the pair of intruding lips that prodded and coaxed her but she gladly welcomed them, drowning in his intoxicating taste, arms wrapping tightly around his neck and raking the base of his hairline.

Draco's eyes fluttered and groaned low in his throat. How could he keep away when this was so sinfully perfect?

He needed to get away. He fucking needed to. But he couldn't resist the tempting nips of her feverish lips that assaulted his, bruising them.

Fuck what was wrong with him. He was going mad.

Draco pulled his lips violently off her, ripping himself away, haggard breaths and sagging shoulders as Hermione stumbled back. "Do you know what you're doing to me?" He choked out, his normally characteristically cool voice, rough and low.

She regained her composure and stared at him with a steely gaze that matched his own. "No, I don't have the slightest idea," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

The edges of his lips lifted infinitesimally but dropped as she glared at him.

"Malfoy, leave before someone sees you," she said coolly.

"You don't have any say in where I'm allowed to be," he retorted, his silver eyes flashing.

"Fine. Be that way then. But I wasn't the one who thought that I wasn't good enough for them," she stated matter-of-factly, almost as if she was quoting from a textbook.

His breath caught in his throat and his features smoothed into an almost blank slate but his eyes glinted with a pained expression, storm clouds swirling with electricity that shook to his very core.

"I―" He said before she turned away from him and walked away without even a glance back.

She fucking turned away from him.

Draco stood silently in disbelief, bristling with frustration. Nobody walked away from a Malfoy, and yet she walked away so easily.

He didn't fucking deserve her. He was fucking filth.

**AN. Hello my sugary sweetness'. This chapter is a little shorter than normal because mainly it is basically a filler and there wasn't much I could write about. Sorry for being a little late because I've been incredibly busy hiking in the wilderness for just some stupid award but I'm back on my original schedule of once a week every friday/saturday... hopefully. I hope you like this chapter and I sincerely hope you like the story. If you do, please tell me! I love hearing from you. And if you don't, please tell me why! I want to become better as a writer (:**

**xoxo j.**

**PLEASE R & R. **


	8. Control

**DISCLAIMER: I think we all know the drill by now. I own absolutely nothing from this story except for the pathetic thing here called a 'storyline.' I am not doing this for any benefit of mine other than to sate my imagination.**

**Chapter 8; Control**

Hermione's hands shook as she looked at Professor McGonagall in disbelief; the older witch's lips were pursed in a thin line.

"What do you mean Harry and Ron were captured?" She exclaimed in horror. She _knew_ it. She knew that their luck would eventually run out. They should've taken her with them.

Professor McGonagall merely shrugged and hushed her to keep her voice down in case of overhearing silent ears.

"Do you know where they are now?" She asked desperately. Maybe she could find them. She could leave this wretched place like she'd wanted to and find them. Maybe she could help them. Her protection be damned.

"I don't know," the Gryffindor professor responded, stoically.

"How do you not know? You knew that they had gotten captured! So how do you not know where they are?" Hermione said, her voice escalating in panic.

"I only know what Phineas has told me," McGonagall replied, her eyes reflecting sadly over the younger witch's grief.

Hermione shoulders slumped and she seemed to curl up on the spot. "What do I do?" She whispered.

"Do what you've already been doing. Just ignore that I ever told you this. I bet your boys are going to come out fine. They always do," the older witch assured her.

Hermione just seemed to sigh in anguish thought. They were captured. Stupid idiots, she knew they were never very careful about their safety and she laughed sadly at the thought.

"You best be off," Professor McGonagall jutted in and she simply nodded in compliance. Maybe she could still find them, she needed to leave the confines of Hogwarts soon anyway, why not sooner rather than later?

Standing up, Hermione made her way to the exit of the Professor's office.

"And Miss Granger," the elderly witch interrupted. "May I warn you, that leaving Hogwarts at this time is not wise. Not when there are lurking eyes."

Hermione looked back with guilty eyes before closing the door with a final, resounding click.

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><p>.<p>

Draco met the Headmaster in his office, the curious eyes of the portraits that hung on the walls followed his every movement.

"What is it, Severus?" Draco asked mildly.

"The Dark Lord gains strength once more," the greasy haired wizard said with no introduction.

Draco simply nodded in consent. He was used to his godfather's blatant nature. "How?" He queried.

"I hear he's got Potter and the Weasley in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor," Snape replied, beady eyes observing him intently, taking in every emotion that ran past the platinum blonde's eyes.

Draco nodded once more. "It's beginning?" He asked again.

The older Slytherin shook his head. "Not yet. Not enough to begin running. The Ministry hasn't been completely infiltrated yet, but walls are cracking. Be prepared. Soon enough. Keep your focus, boy. Don't let anyone waver it. You'll need it for later."

The platinum blonde gave another nod, face completely devoid of emotion and detached. "Thank you, uncle."

His godfather merely gave him a meaningful look before showing his godson out the door. The door shutting with a final, resounding click.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Hermione rushed down the hallways back to her dormitory. It was late, too late, the pale moon glimmered like water against the navy blue sky that twinkled with stars like tiny eyes.

The sense of unease crept into her mind as each shadow seemed human, each corner held something unknown and each crevice felt like watching eyes.

Looking out the arched window she sighed. They were out there somewhere. The boy who lived, the chosen one, the golden soldier. But most importantly; her friend.

She wondered if they were conscious. Whether they were hurt. Whether they were thinking about her. Whether they knew what was going to happen. She could leave Hogwarts right now, and maybe do something worthwhile in this time of war.

Hermione Granger was not someone who didn't like being in control. Control gave her something that she could be in power of. Something that was sure to turn out right in her favour. Without control, Hermione Granger did not know what to do.

She needed to regain her control. It seemed that things were beginning to spiral out of control, small things, small things like her parents in Australia, smaller things like crookshanks running away. But there was a point, when the big things began rushing over like a tidal wave, further engrained with Dumbledore's absence. Big things like Draco Malfoy's unwelcome presence, bigger things like the hushed up stories of Voldemort gaining strength and taking out entire towns of Muggle's at a single time and even bigger things like Harry and Ron in danger.

There's a point when the tidal wave needs to crash and break apart to smooth over. Well that wasn't going to happen until it reached its absolute peak in its crest.

But what could she do? It was completely out of her control. She was gaining nothing being stuck at Hogwarts where Harry had left her. She had zero control in the corridors of Hogwarts and nothing to occupy her time other than pointless attempts to learn more about Voldemort's fabled horcruxes which even if she did find any information on, was completely pointless if she couldn't even _contact_ the boys. She was merely a watcher of the games. The brutal and tedious games.

But, if she was out there, out where the boys were, she could help them. Even if the chance was infinitesimally small of finding them, she would be getting somewhere right?

But _where_ on _earth_ were they?

The elusive boys had given her _nothing_. Told her _nothing_ and it was truly at this point when Hermione realised how utterly stupid she was thinking that she could just _leave_. She couldn't help them if she didn't know where they were! She was no longer in control and she could feel the restraints that she'd put up ever so carefully fray at the edges.

She couldn't just _leave._ _Stupid, Hermione, stupid,_ she scolded herself. Her hands clamped tightly around her neck marring it with indented crescents.

She felt like she was suffocating.

She was left behind with nothing and absolutely no control over the events that seemed to be bubbling over.

She only needed to know where they were. That was all. And she would be out without a second thought.

A leering silhouette crawled along the walls as moonlight betrayed the darkness and Hermione felt her blood run cold as she froze on the spot.

The distinctive click of heels on the floor rebounded down the hallway as she tried to figure out the shadow's intentions. It could be anyone, a wondering student or someone with not such an innocent intention.

The silhouette grew larger, contrasting against the pale glow of the moonlight that illuminated the hallway and the footsteps advanced closer as Hermione pressed herself up against the wall, trying to calm her breathing.

"Who's there?" Draco said, voice deep but laced with uncertainty, eyes narrowed at the dark figure that stood against the wall a few feet from him.

Hermione sighed at the familiar silver halo that glowed almost ethereally in the moonlight. "Jesus Malfoy, you gave me a scare."

His eyes focused on the darkness and sighed when he detected the long curly locks that framed her face. "Fuck Granger, me too."

She took a step forwards towards him to get a closer look of his face. "Why were you scared?" She questioned.

Draco glowered at her. "Not _scared_ per se," he retorted and she rolled her eyes at him. "But why would _you_ be scared, golden girl?"

She scoffed. "Did you forget that, _Severus Snape_, is the Headmaster and that we are at _war," _Hermione said almost flippantly. It was too obvious to deny anyway, everybody knew that nowhere was safe, not at this time. "And don't deny it, Malfoy. You were scared. But what I'd like to know is why the great Draco Malfoy would be scared."

The blond shrugged and walked towards her with long strides. "Fine. Same thing then," he said, lightly.

She narrowed her eyes, waiting for him to elaborate.

He rolled his eyes at the persistent Gryffindor. "I don't think Severus is anything to worry about but I guess we are at war and if anyone from _either_ side find me, the Malfoy line ends right here."

She laughed. "I'm glad you finally admit it, Malfoy," Hermione murmured, hints of a condescending smile on her rosy lips.

"I admitted it far earlier," he whispered, barely audible, stepping forwards, so close that Hermione had to take a step back to avoid his heated breath. "But you never noticed."

The Gryffindor furrowed her eyebrows as Draco simply stared at her impassively with eyes ridden with something feral.

"Malfoy," she murmured warningly. "You said so yourself, this isn't normal. Whatever it is."

Draco blanched, pausing before taking a step back away from her alluring warmth. "Of course," he said smoothly. "Well what is the goody goody Gryffindor doing up at this hour?"

Hermione let a smile grace her lips before remembering why she was still up. "It's nothing that concerns you, Malfoy," she replied. "And besides, you would need to explain why you're roaming the corridors in the middle of the night too."

"It's hardly the middle of the night. More like a quarter of the night left til daybreak," he responded. "But yes, Granger. That's true. I don't think you could handle my rather _busy_ night schedule."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "That would be an absolutely thrilling tale, Mr Malfoy. No wonder you've been looking rather tired lately."

Draco remained stoically unaffected. "You are quite the observer, Granger."

She shrugged.

"But I wouldn't expect any less from you," he added as an after-thought in a patronizing tone.

"And I wouldn't expect any less from you than to go sneaking around the corridors dead of night," Hermione replied coldly in response.

"Didn't you do that, Granger?" He murmured darkly, his silver eyes glinting with mischief. "Oh wait I forgot, you didn't need to sneak around because you're boyfriend was in the same house as you. Tell me, how does it feel shagging an orange haired baboon?"

"Quit being fickle, Malfoy," she shot back.

"I can't imagine it'd be nice…" He trailed off. "But I guess you like that sort of thing, Princess."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the blonde. "Call me princess one more time and you'll be at the wrong end of my wand."

"Unless you're cheating on him by sneaking out. Tut tut, Granger," Draco said loftily, obviously amused.

"Oh shut up, ferret. Nobody cares what you say," she retorted, scathingly.

The eyes that had danced previously like swirling mercury immediately hardened into slate. "Maybe to a certain, _Zacharias Smith_?" He pressed forth ruthlessly with a penetrating gaze.

"Malfoy stop it. Ron is not my boyfriend and it'd do you well to stop if you'd like to keep your precious family jewels in its original shape," Hermione snapped in irritation.

Draco's eyes immediately widened in surprise before his lids became hooded and he began resembling a predator cat stalking its prey, his voice silky smooth. "Your precious Potter and Weasley. You certainly do care about them don't you?"

She stiffened as he stepped forwards once more.

"Wouldn't want them to get _hurt_, would you?" He whispered just above her ear, rustling a few dark locks.

Her eyes snapped to attention, glowing with cautious interest. "What did you just say?"

Draco chuckled low in his throat, almost sinister. "I said, Princess, you wouldn't want your friends to get _hurt_, maybe _captured,_ would you?"

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Malfoy," she murmured. "What do you know?"

He simply laughed and stopped his circling around her, stepping back once more.

"Malfoy, what do you know," she forced out slowly.

He smirked.

"Malfoy, that was not a question," she said her hand reaching for her wand and pressing it against his side, threateningly.

He glared at her and she simply stared back, unflinching. "Malfoy."

"Granger," he replied, copying her in a mocking tone, coyly.

"Don't mess with me, snake. You know where Harry and Ron are, don't you?"

"So what if I do? Why would I tell you?" He shot back like steel daggers. He was not going to tell her. He was not putty in her hands. He was not going to let his resolution crumble. He refused for her to have this effect on him.

"Because…" Her wand, which had previously been trained on his lower abdomen, began digging deep into it painfully.

He watched the pained expression in her eyes that glinted in the low moonlight. The pale dusting of colouring in her cheeks from frustration. His stomache clenched when he remembered the rosy tint of her cheeks last time he kissed her.

"Malfoy Manor," he said.

"What?" She asked in confusion.

"Your _boys_ are at Malfoy Manor," he gritted out. _Darn it._

Hermione froze. Her eyes wide. They were at Malfoy Manor. And she needed to seize control. And that's where she would regain her control.

Draco cursed himself. Fuck, why was he so weak when around her? And a little stirring of something almost primal erupted at the base of his stomache. He was _not_ jealous of Potter and Weasley for having her. They were a bunch of idiots, giving her away, trying to _protect_ her at Hogwarts. Even _he_ knew that she was not boding well with being cooped up.

The absence of her alluring warmth startled him and he saw her marching down the corridor, away from him. "Granger!" He shouted. "Where are you going?"

She simply charged forwards without a glance back.

"Fuck, Granger!" He began following her with long, graceful strides and he easily caught up to her hurrying form.

His hand closed around her wrist and she wrenched it away as if burnt. "Stay away," she hissed, turning around suddenly, causing him to almost run into her.

"Where the hell are you going?" He growled in frustration.

"Nowhere."

He scoffed. "Right, and that's so easy to believe," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Shut up, Malfoy. I have enough to worry about without you on my tail, so _go_. Leave. You don't owe me any favours."

Draco glared in frustration at the stubborn witch. "Not until you tell me where you're hurrying to at this hour," he retorted. "Wait a second… Granger," he murmured warningly.

She continued walking, and he followed.

"You cannot be serious," he said in shock.

"Depends on what you're serious about," she snapped in irritation, descending the staircases towards the entrance.

"You're going to go to my Manor," he stated.

"Great perception, Malfoy. I think you have an Auror in you," Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

"Granger, are you fucking crazy?" He almost yelled. They were near the entrance and he could see the iron clad gates which were closed but he was sure the talented witch certainly would find a way to get past them.

"I'm going to have to leave some time anyway," she replied, murmuring a complex charm which made a doorway in the gates to open. She stepped through and Draco followed her. "Stop following me, Malfoy. You can't follow me forever."

The grounds glistened with sweat and the glow of the pale moonlight. "You're going out of your mind, Granger."

She ignored him, her long hair whipping about her in the harsh wind. He caught her sweet perfume in the wind and he immediately froze, grabbing her elbow. She jerked away from him but stopped and turned around. "What is it?" she asked blandly.

"You have almost no chance of surviving if you go, you know," he said, his fingers still crackling with the smoothness of her skin.

"I need to help."

"Granger, you don't understand. You will _not_ fucking live. They're going to curse you the minute they see you," he gritted out.

"And when did you care so much for my personal safety?" Hermione argued back.

"Why do you have to question everything I do?" He exclaimed.

"So you just expect me to trust your intentions?" She stepped forwards, her dark eyes glinting dangerously with anger and annoyance.

"Why do you have to be so frustrating for, witch?" He hissed.

"Just leave me alone, Malfoy! I don't understand why you think it's your own personal duty to follow me around everywhere!" She cried out in aggravation, trying to shake him off.

Draco swallowed an insult that he was about to throw at the witch and instead simply seethed on the spot, jaw tense, shoulders pulled back proud, and panting chest. He observed the rising and falling of her chest, the wall her locks fell in disarray, the flushed state of her cheeks, perfectly curved cupids arrow, heavy lidded eyes from lack of sleep and the frenzied look in her eyes. He'd never seen anything so fucking _alluring._

"Malfoy?" She questioned, nervously from the distant look in his eyes that were rimmed with black.

He stepped forwards until her frame fitted into his, his hip bones digging into her lower abdomen.

"Draco…" She whispered, warning. "What are you―"

But she was cut off. By a pair of hot, wet, heated lips that crushed into hers.

He revelled on the silky smooth texture, the way her lips melded into his yet also resisted. His hands hovered at the base of her spine, touching, just barely, sending her shivers as she sighed into his lips.

His body was treacherous. Why the fuck was he doing this? But she was simply so fucking addictive. And with the single nip of her teeth on his bottom lip, he lost all coherent thought.

He felt pressure on either side of his collarbones, where her hands were pushing him away and he tore his lips off hers.

Draco watched Hermione's dilated pupils, the way her lashes hovered, the slight part between her lips where gushes of air escaped and were sucked in.

"Don't," he stated and she understood.

Gathering his wits, the grey-eyed wizard stood up straight and leaned away from her, before turning on his heel and walking back into the castle, the steady crunch of freshly fallen leaves beneath his shoes.

Hermione stood in shock on the spot, her lips tingling from the bold sensation.

The part of her brain which had been shut during her wild rollercoaster of emotions turned on again and she realised how completely idiotic she had been. Malfoy was right, deviously so, but still right; she wouldn't survive for one second. She could handle maybe a few witches and wizards at a time, but certainly not the security of death eaters that would come with the famous Harry Potter, not to mention them yearning for a muggleborn's blood. She just hoped that Harry and Ron would make it out alive.

Her hands shook in weariness. She was equipped to deal with stress well, but not this sort of stress. Not the stress that creeps up on you. The stress of knowing what is there but having no means of stopping it.

All she could do was wait until her time was up. Hogwarts wasn't going to be safe for much longer.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Draco opened his eyes for the hundredth time. It was usually quite easy to drift off to sleep, considering his constant state of fatigue. Staying asleep was another matter.

But right at this moment, Draco was fidgety and restless. The sheets were tangled around his legs from his constant shuffling.

He breathed heavily out of his nose in frustration. Every second of sleep was essential. But each time he closed his eyes, a certain witch would consume his thoughts.

It was Sunday, and after almost 2 nights of restless sleep he couldn't do it anymore. He hadn't seen her since Friday night in which she had threatened to run off to _his _Manor to save the pathetic idiots she called friends. Now, he had absolutely no idea if she'd gone or not.

Why was this bothering him anyway?

He'd asked this question for the 2 nights, on and off, on and off, and come up with no answers, only leaving him more frustrated than before.

She'd gotten under his skin and he certainly didn't want her to leave due his cursed traitorous body. She just neededto stop being so sorely tempting and maybe he could ignore her for the rest of the year with crawling days.

But even now, he itched just to touch her. His mind kept dissecting every little thing she said and did during and after that night, trying to decipher whether she had left or not. He felt like he was going positively insane and his calm and collected frame of mind was quickly slipping. He just _needed_ to know. And Malfoy's always got what they wanted.

He kicked away the tangle of sheets, finding a pair of shoes and putting on a coat without even bothering to put on a shirt.

He was Head Boy, roaming the corridors at night was nothing out of the ordinary.

Draco slipped out of the portrait hole and was immediately graced with the cold draft of the dungeons.

He took long sloping steps up the stairs, along winding hallways and all the while berating himself. He was going out of his mind. What did it matter if she had left or not? He didn't care.

The clock seemed to tick unnaturally loudly.

Oh boy, he cared.

He cursed his traitorous body.

And during this entire mental battle between what he should be doing and what he wanted, his feet carried him all the way to the entrance of the Gryffindor common room, with a rather distasteful lady in pink snoring against the frame.

"Salazar save me," he murmured before sending a patronus out, a bright silver light shooting from the tip of his wand, leaving behind an ethereal mist.

And so he waited.

He waited amazingly calmly, accepting the fact that she had left and that it was in fate's hands now. A solid clear resounding clarity ringing in his ears.

And one could imagine how astonished he was to find the portrait hole swinging open slowly to reveal a very dishevelled witch with hair that resembled a bird's nest. His heart caught in his throat and he forced every inch of moral fibre in him not to touch her. Not yet.

"Malfoy?" she murmured blearily and weakly. "That was your patronus?"

"Hello, Granger," he murmured stiffly, mind still reeling.

"What are you doing here?"

He shrugged. His mind making no connection to his mouth and he felt like a fish out of water.

Hermione took this time to observe the ruffled state of Draco Malfoy. The slight downturn of his lips, the chiselled jaw and straight, sharp nose with rumpled hair. He could very certainly be a fine statue carved by Michelangelo himself. "Malfoy?" She asked again.

He shook himself out of his trance of bewilderedness and said as nonchalantly as possible,"Just checking if you had snuck off."

Hermione let her lips curve into a faint smile. "Rest assured, Malfoy. I'm fine."

He nodded and merely looked at her, gaze low and intense, one that seemed to burn through her core. Draco could practically feel her warmth radiating off of her sinful form.

She was painfully delicious and her amber eyes were focused on his with her hot breath ghosting across his neck. He took a step forwards, now crushing himself into her frame, hands by his side, still not touching, merely feeling. She seemed to lean in unconsciously and his breath caught in his throat as she tilted her head down, breaking his gaze to lean into the base of his neck planting soft, feathery kisses along his collarbone.

"Sweet, Merlin," he murmured, barely audible.

Hermione marvelled the salty tang of his smooth skin and bit gently down at his pulse point as he sucked in a harsh breath.

His hands left his side and he tugged at her hair to pull her away, his usually bright grey eyes were dark and dilated.

Without a moment's notice, he pushed her roughly up against the damp stone wall before harsh, unforgiving lips crashed into hers as he tangled his hands into her luscious curls.

His clean scent of fresh laundry and morning dew invaded her senses as she fought his battling tongue lapped and twisted as he gave tiny nips of teeth on her bottom lip that sent shock waves down her spine.

Draco's hands roamed freely along her back, with feather-light touches and forceful strokes. He broke away for a second to feel her panting breath across his skin to lean in again but before he could capture her passion bruised lips a pair of hands caught him and pushed him away as he stumbled back.

"No, Malfoy. I'm not doing this," she said forcefully.

Dread filled his mind. She was pushing him away. "What are―"

"Stop it, Malfoy. I'm not doing this anymore," she gritted out.

He stared at her with his breath hissing out between his teeth. No. She couldn't be doing this. "Granger, I―"

"You said before, this isn't normal. And you can't do this. _We _can't be doing this. And I'm not going to let you play with me like a toy."

"What if I don't want to play with you?" He murmured, almost unintelligibly.

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "I highly doubt that. You're not particularly famous for your kind heart, are you?"

He looked at her with pained eyes. "What do you want then?"

"What I want? I want to know what you're doing and _why_ you're doing it."

"What if I don't know why?" He managed to choke out, forcing down everything he wanted to say. He wanted to shout at her. He wanted to shake her. He wanted to kiss her again. He wanted to tell her not to leave. He _didn't know_ what he wanted.

"Then you need to figure it out. Goodbye, Malfoy." And she turned around and headed back into the portrait hole, letting it swing shut noiselessly, with no indication that she was ever here. Here right in front of him. So completely real and yet unreal.

His hands folded into fists as he fought the urge to wildly swing his hand into the wall which would most likely break his hand. He'd tried it before.

Instead, he headed back to his own dormitory with clenched teeth.

**AN. Whoop whoop. Nice long chapter for you all, my beautiful readers. The long chapter is because I probably won't be posting next week due to exams ): But the good news is that the next chapter is going to be deliciously long and wonderful. I have great things planned (;**

**Thank you to the absolutely wonderful reviewers that forced me to push out this chapter. I spent the last few days staying up til 2 in the morning writing before succumbing to sleep despite my exams. I absolutely adore you and I hope you all continue. Especially praise (; Nah I kid, but praise would be highly appreciated (; Constructive criticism would also help immensely.**

**I hope you all liked the story so far though! Please R & R!**


	9. Magnetism

**DISCLAIMER: I think you all know the drill by now. JK Rowling owns everything and besides, how can my pathetic writing even COMPARE to the literary god?**

**WARNING: It is in this chapter that the story fully lives up to it's M rating, not including the very prominent swearing and some alcohol abuse. So it is completely okay to just stop reading right now or skip it once you see it coming up.**

**Chapter 9; Magnetism**

Draco gritted his teeth steadily. Who did she think she was? She had no right. It wasn't like he was going to go running to her. She should be grateful…

Grateful for what?

He clenched his jaw.

Hermione Granger was nothing special. She was a stubborn, insufferable Gryffindor who believed the best in everyone.

Other than the fact that she was utterly delicious.

No, most definitely not.

Draco knocked himself out with the last dregs of firewhiskey he'd managed to steal from the Three Broomsticks.

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* * *

><p>.<p>

Draco looked absentmindedly at the empty firewhiskey bottle.

He hadn't gone to class for a week now. But he was sure nobody noticed.

His throat burnt painfully, dry, protesting to the air that ran down painfully and caught in this throat. His body was taunt and tense despite being sprawled across his four-poster bed.

Fists clenched, he shook the unforgiving nagging in his brain that every so often diverted to wild, long dark curly locks.

Who was he kidding? He needed to remember his place in relation to hers.

He was absolutely nobody, complete filth and she was strong, fierce, fighting for her rights and what she believed was right.

No, he was not going to go looking for her.

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* * *

><p>.<p>

A cold chill snuck into the walls of Hogwarts, seeping into the air, something that the fires couldn't even correct. Draco's body was weary and his hands shook from the lack of alcohol that would normally numb his mind.

Oh Merlin, who was he fooling? His mind and body ached for some, _any_ form of contact with her. The witch with blazing eyes and a fiery temper.

Instead, he shook his head, it'd been more than a week since he'd seen her, mostly due to the fact that he'd stayed in his room every second of every day, grabbing food from the kitchens only during the dead of night.

He was avoiding her, yes, he admitted it. But only because if he saw her, his resolution would come crumbling down into pieces.

Draco had already gotten too involved with the Gryffindor witch, too in tune with her personality, the events in her life, the way she moved, the way she smelt, the way she _tasted_.

No, he needed to get her out of his system. And she'd presented a perfect opportunity to keep him at bay; either to stay away forever, or come and be with her.

It was quite the no-brainer actually. He knew what he needed to do, but his body and clenching heart betrayed him.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Hermione stared mindlessly out the window of their Transfiguration classroom. Besides, it was nothing more than theory. And Hermione always excelled in theory. There was something oddly calming about it.

Something in the way that theories were always correct. There was a right and a wrong and an exception which was always given in the textbook.

But when theory becomes practice, there are far too many variables. The outcome is entirely dependent on the wand-holder's abilities, the position they held themselves in and pure _luck_.

Hermione never liked to deviate from theory. Theory made _sense¸ _which was not what her body's reaction to Draco Malfoy was. She was in a complete, disconcerting state all due to Malfoy. Malfoy, who triggered Hermione's sense in a way that certainly did _not_ make sense.

She had absolutely no idea how she had gotten those almost _coherent_ words while he was so close. So tantalisingly close. It was a miracle that she could even pull away with his invading lips that had lulled her to … not to sleep, most definitely not …. More like a state of complete and utter desperation where the only thing that mattered at that moment was him.

Thank god to holy Jesus, she'd been blessed with the power to pull herself away.

Nevertheless, she felt oddly strange about it all. She wanted to run back to him, to beg him to accept her back, but her pride and conscience refused. Hermione Granger was not going to let herself get tangled with a _snake_ this close to the end.

The _rest_ of her traitorous body however was another story. Her heart clenched each time she thought of him, and her body seemed strangely disconnected from herself. She could see herself doing the actions, she could control the actions, but she couldn't _feel._ There was almost a strange numbness to her actions, like her body was almost _rejecting_ her, which was preposterous to say the least.

But as the days grew shorter, and the winds began to howl, the less she felt. It seemed as if her body was _withdrawing_ from the strong, electric static shocks that Malfoy had so often presented to her each time he'd touched her.

However, Hermione refused to give him to the pathetic urges of her body or how her strong Gryffindor heart would immediately begin to beat faster and her face to flush each time she saw a glimpse of shock blonde hair. And each time, that familiar feeling that caused her entire body to clench in anxiousness would knock the breath out of her lips.

"Miss Granger." A stern voice roused her from her musings as she whipped her head away from the falling snow.

"Sorry, Professor McGonagall," she said instantly, almost by habit.

The thin lipped witch then promptly turned back to teaching, not before a very hungry pair of eyes were drawn immediately to the back of her luxurious curls.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

The small part of his brain which was still functioning normally told him to look away. But his devouring eyes couldn't stop.

He'd avoided her all these days. He'd come back to classes to tell himself that he would not talk, not even _glance _at her because he knew, that the moment he did, Draco Malfoy's pathetic resolution to stay away from her at all costs would come crumbling down.

His already lust-ridden eyes ate her up like a starving man would consume food. It was something _primal_ that knocked all other instincts to the side.

He admired the way her curls ended perfectly straight at the small of her back instead of curling once again. He gazed hungrily at her profile, the straight, yet not sharp like his, slope of her nose which were smattered with freckles like dust. His darkened silver eyes focused on slight curve of her lips as she listened to Professor McGonagall in thought.

And before his thoughts could drift to anything inappropriate, the shrill clang of the bell shook him out of his stupor.

He gathered his textbooks and quills like an intoxicated man and watched as she walked swiftly out of the classroom with those lovely long milky legs of hers.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

It'd been thirteen days. Thirteen _long_ days. Thirteen long days and endless, sleepless, absolutely _torturous _nights. Nightmares no longer invaded his mind, instead images of dark unruly hair, of amber eyes that glowed even in the darkness, that were ringed with darkness from lust and passion-bruised lips tormented his mind behind closed lids.

He could not give in. He _would not_ give in.

Draco was prideful; he was not some grovelling, pathetic idiot who crawled on their knees.

Although right at this moment he wished to simply go on his hands and knees right before her and beg for her to give him what he needed so desperately.

She was literally driving him insane but he would not let his pride cave. It'd already suffered enough of a beating from those endless insults and sneers from everybody and Draco knew that he simply was absolute _filth_ to the wizarding world. But he was one other thing too, he was a Malfoy. And Malfoy's never let anything get the better of them.

That was until he felt her walk just a millimetre too close with the intricately carved arched window wide open, drawing in gushing wind, bringing her sweet, delicious fragrance to him, burning through his nostrils.

His entire body froze causing annoyed and scathing looks from the students surrounding him trying to get to class through the bustling hallway. He saw her long her whip away before she was gone once more.

Draco Malfoy was certainly going insane.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Hermione's heartbeat seemed unnaturally loud in her ears, her palms were sweaty. No. No. No.

This couldn't be happening.

This couldn't have _happened._

"Please tell me you're joking," she choked out in raw panic.

The Headmistress simply shook her head in silence.

"No, Professor, please!" She practically begged.

Professor McGonagall spoke, "I'm sorry Miss Granger, I cannot change what has been done."

Hermione let hot tears trickle silently down her cheeks as her clammy hands lay motionless in her lap. She felt her dread drop to the pit of her stomache, choking on a sob.

No, they couldn't possibly be gone. They were one of the _only_ things she had left. The thing which she would hold onto whenever she felt pain, stress, anger or resentment. And now her parents were _dead_. Dead by the hands of _death eaters_. And Hermione felt pure unadulterated rage run through her bloodstream like venom

"How?" She hissed. "How did they find them? They were in _Australia_ for god's sake!"

Professor McGonagall looked sadly at the shaking girl before her. "Apparently the memory charm wasn't strong enough. They already knew too much so they fought it and returned to England."

This is what it had come to hadn't it? Her own _inadequacy_. She couldn't even _perform the spell_ properly that was required to keep her parents alive.

The words burnt in her mind. Her inadequacy. Her inability to protect her very own parents.

Hermione's entire body clenched painfully, this time not because of _Draco_ _Malfoy_, but because she was finally feeling something so unfamiliar, so dreadful and so terrifyingly real.

This was war. And inadequacy did not survive in war.

"Excuse me," she murmured, sitting up from the plush sofa and heading out of Headmistress' office and back to her own dormitory, crossing the frozen courtyard as a shortcut to get to privacy faster.

The tears had stopped flowing, but she wasn't sure if it was because they'd frozen in the below zero temperature or simply because she didn't have enough energy to just cry anymore.

It was all her fault anyway wasn't it?

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Jeers followed his ears even once he'd entered his own private dormitory. The abuse still remained in the air whenever he entered the Slytherin common room. Apparently his insulters seemed to be more confident in packs rather than teasing him alone. And they should be afraid, each time there was a lone straggler who even _stared_ at him for too long, they'd be met with a hex. Well, only if a teacher wasn't in sight.

His hands shook angrily like a wounded beast and his body seemed to simply _itch _to just _see_ her. She was the only one who could distract from his own world that was rapidly spinning out of control.

But he daren't admit that to her or _anyone_. He wouldn't admit that she was the only one who made him weak.

A wolf-whistle outside caught his attention.

Draco looked out to the courtyard and saw a figure in the distance hurrying to the opposite side of the castle with a group of rowdy 7th year boys on her trail.

Her gait was stiff, strong, yet ragged. He immediately noticed her hair, long dark brown curls which looked midnight black in the night, obscuring her face. But he was absolutely certain it was her.

"Granger," he murmured to himself and immediately widened his eyes in surprise at accidentally speaking out loud.

Draco observed the group of 7th years, most likely Ravenclaw prats, stalking around her like she was prey as she continued to hurry on.

He subconsciously clenched his fist angrily and almost growled to himself.

Granger was _his_ and a bunch of idiots who paraded around like geniuses weren't going to get a single _inch_.

He watched proudly as she shot them all a quick hex without even looking back and Draco's fiery temper began to drop as he smirked in satisfaction at her handy work; the Ravenclaws were currently running around shouting as boils sprung up on their face and Draco looked away distastefully.

Noticing what he was doing, Draco quickly backed away from the window in horror.

Forgetting her, his arse. He couldn't even look away from her the minute he saw her, not to mention his straying thoughts.

His body was sleep deprived, his eyes were heavy and the tremors that wrecked havoc throughout his body from his alcohol withdrawal were becoming worse with each passing day. He was diminishing and he bloody _knew _it.

It was as if he knew what was happening but he couldn't do anything about it. As if he was merely watching his own body crumble to pieces.

But there was something he could do…

He was going fucking insane. She'd bewitched him. Robbed him of his self control.

But he was tumbling into an abyss where self control was hardly needed.

A quick image of Hermione's rosy lips and flushed cheeks flashed past his eye and that was all it took. For all those carefully laid bricks that had made his wall to fall.

_Screw this_, he thought before hastily grabbed a cloak and draped it haphazardly over him, uncaring. Screw his pride, screw his dignity, screw everything that he'd ever been taught.

The rain began pelting up against the castle now but Draco hardly noticed it as he found his Firebolt at the corner of his room.

His heart was racing and he was well past the frivolity of weather, opening the window without flinching as the fresh rain shot at his face and the howling wind rushing in. Draco quickly mounted his Firebolt, gripping on tightly, and without shutting his window, he sped off and glanced back just in time to see his newly written essay on the Goblin Wars of 1866 to fly straight out into the courtyard, ink running. He merely shrugged and dragged his broom up higher to search for the window in which he wanted.

Hers. Hermione Jean Granger's.

How did he even fucking know her middle name?

But this wasn't the time for pondering all the small details he knew about the particular witch but instead, it was to simply just _get to her_.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Hermione had barely closed the door to her dormitory, collapsing in an exhausted heap on her bed before she heard the incessant knocking on her window.

She wearily stumbled off her four poster bed and reached for the latch, barely even registering the weather that had turned into a havoc scene outside.

The minute the window was unlocked, it swung precariously open, howling icy winds bringing the rain into her room, picking up her things and tossing them around hazily. Hermione made to grab them all up but that thought was immediately washed from her mind the minute she saw who'd been at the window.

She didn't even need to hear him speak, only to _see_ the snowy hair that was precariously windswept and damp, the lean torso that was revealed through his soaking wet robes which clung onto his body, and his haunting, grey eyes that stared into her with such longing that Hermione almost forgot to breathe.

Draco dismounted from his broom quickly, swinging the window closed again, muffling the howl of the wind and began stalking towards her with a sinister flash of his grey eyes that reflected the weather outside.

"Malfoy, what are you doing―" But she was cut off.

By his flaming lips.

They were like fire against her flesh, a stark contrast to his frozen skin as he quickly ripped of his soaking wet robes, the buttons popping off his white oxford shirt as he tore it off.

Draco felt the warmth spread through his frozen skin like poison bringing fire his senses.

Hermione gasped as he tore his lips away from her violently. She felt his ragged, tortured breath on her neck as he sucked in harsh breaths of air.

"Sorry," he murmured, ever so gently. A shocking contrast to his behaviour earlier.

He pulled away from her welcoming warmth and stood away to retain his rational state of mind, looking intently at her. He noticed her eyes were rimmed with red and there was a single frozen tear on her cheek.

"Granger…" he said apprehensively. "What's wrong?"

Hermione simply stared back at his shocking pale eyes.

"Hey…" he murmured. "Tell me."

She noticed the now melted tear that ran down her cheek. "I― I," she stuttered.

He stepped forwards once more, no longer caring of his own self control but instead of her. "I'm sorry, did I do something?"

Hermione let the edges of her lips lift infinitesimally and giving a dry scoff. "No Malfoy, for once this wasn't you."

She shook her head and for just this once, Draco let her be. For once, he wouldn't tease her, force anything out of her, not yet at least.

Instead, he nodded and moved away, picking up his discarded shirt off the floor and heading towards his Firebolt.

But before he could open the latch of the window once more, a heated hand wrapped around his wrist.

Hermione gasped at his icy skin but retained her hold as he slowly turned his head around to meet her gaze.

"Malfoy, wait," she whispered, barely audible behind the ruthless collisions against the window of the wind.

He let go of his Firebolt with a clatter as it landed on the wooden floor yet making no more to come closer to her.

"Please," she murmured.

He remained stoic and seemingly calm however inside, his entire body wanted to throw himself at her and never let go and hope that she would never let go either. But that was a hopeless thought and would never, ever happen. She didn't want him unless he gave her something, and he had absolutely nothing to give.

"Make me feel better?" She said, almost in question. He stared torturously at her, at her heaving chest, at the long curls that spilled over her shoulder, her bruised lips and proud chin, her dark, burnt caramel eyes.

Salazar save him and he immediately strode towards her welcoming warmth, dropping his shirt on the floor once more to latch painfully against her lips as she sucked and nipped right back at him.

Her scent was consuming his senses, her overpowering, driving fragrance that invaded everything she touched, everything she held, and it seemed to burn his skin as it seeped into his pores. Her fragrance was something undefinable, something so familiar yet so unrecognisable.

His hands journeyed leisurely against her warm body which was crushed into his, a complete opposite of his frenzied lips.

Hermione's fingers grappled with his silky snowy locks and raked through them with her fingernails, coaxing a low, well kept in groan that escaped his lips and into hers.

How long had he wished for this? Wished for this blissful entity that had been stolen away from him the minute he realised he wanted it?

Draco's hands gripped tightly on her hips, grinding her feverish skin against his ice cold flesh.

Her shirt was becoming damp from the droplets of water that remained on his chest and he nimbly tugged at the buttons to pull the shirt away before groaning lowly at the sight.

That was certainly a mistake.

Her chest was rising and falling, a navy blue bra covering her eager breasts and Draco had to tear his gaze away from her upper torso to give her a panicked look which she quickly drowned out with her attacking lips and Draco's hands once more slid up and down against her back, creating friction and warming his fingertips.

Fuck. What was he even doing?

"Hermione," he choked out, ripping himself away from her. "I'm sorry, I―"

She shook her hand and pressed a finger to his heated lips. "Don't. I asked for you to make me feel better. Just don't think, Draco."

He certainly didn't need telling twice, and right then, what little power of his self control snapped seamlessly and he dived into her all encompassing scent and feel of her feverish skin. Her lips tasting deliciously sinful as her tongue flicked against his bottom lip, earning her a low hiss from him.

Draco felt the pressure build in his lower abdomen and he was barely aware of anything other than just the two of them, feet planted firmly on the floor with wild, exploring hands.

His hands found the dramatic curve of her waist and he pulled them up towards his own hip bones, lifting her off the ground as she gave a yelp of shock before instinctively wrapping her own legs around his waist, resting on his hips. Draco groaned. How long had he'd dreamt of her long, creamy, smooth legs wrapped tightly around his torso?

He shook the cloudy haze that had settled before his eyes and made his way to her bed with luxurious maroon sheets, kicking off his soaked shoes filled with icy water as he went.

Hermione landed ungracefully on the bed as she dropped her from a distance but before she could protest, she felt his already warming body on hers, crushing her before his lips found the base of neck, sucking relentlessly, earning a well deserved mewl of approval from her.

She found the buckle of Draco's pants and his eyes shot up in panic as she quickly undid them and slid his low-slung pants off his hips, peeling the clinging wet material off his feverish thighs. He quickly kicked them away and resumed his ministrations against her neck, sucking on her pulse point whilst she bit down on his shoulder, _hard_. Draco hissed in response whilst staring at Hermione with hooded eyes. "Aren't you a _devilish_ witch," he smirked.

His hands trailed down to the base of her skirt, fingering the material, his dark, stormy eyes crackling with electricity.

"Please," Hermione whispered, her hands fisting into his silken locks of dishevelled platinum hair as his hand ventured up, trailing up the caress of her thigh, his head following, planting soft, wet kisses upwards.

She shuddered at the contact and lifted her hips off the mattress to have them pushed down once more.

"I'm no saint, Granger, and you should know that. You should know that I _will_ take advantage of you if you give me the change," he murmured, his voice husky, into her sharp right hip bone as she struggled under him. "But I hope I make you forget whatever it is you were crying about."

And with little ceremony, he pushed aside her black, cotton underwear to find her already wet and wanton, waiting for him.

He suppressed a groan at her silky softness as he gently traced the outline of her pussy with a delicate finger.

Hermione's eyes immediately widened and tossed her head back, hands digging into the base of Draco's scalp, pushing him closer towards her.

He pressed his index finger right up against her clit and Hermione let out a long suppressed moan, hips lifting off the bed in a desperate attempt for more.

He began rubbing in circles and Hermione's legs lifted off the bed to wrap tightly around Draco's neck, pulling him closer and he smirked in response.

Before she could beg, his lips found her entrance and was placing sinful patterns up against her pleasure. Hermione tensed in response as he marvelled the scent of her sex that tasted wickedly delicious, almost as if it were a drug and he'd been the only one to experience it. Or so he hoped…

"Granger," he rasped, pulling himself away from her, looking up to find her lusty gaze on him. He restrained himself from cockily smirking but she was so bloody _gorgeous_, with messed up hair, thick lashes and flushed cheeks.

She pulled desperately at his hair to get him to continue but he simply laughed. After some time, she gave up. "Fine, what is it?" She grumbled.

He gave her a grin that melted her heart and Hermione forgot what they were talking about. "You're legs are wrapped around me awfully tight."

Hermione blushed at his words and he gave her a quick smirk before his mouth found her clit once more and she lost all train of thought, loosening the hold on her legs. She was sure her hands were going to smell distinctively of him tomorrow morning, or maybe, her entire body was going to smell distinctively of him.

She gasped and keened as he sucked, and licked at her clit whilst his fingers were doing devilish things in her pussy. He shivered as he slipped a long finger into her and she gasped at the intrusion.

His pained words and shallow breaths were having an effect on her not unlike the effect his hand was having and she moaned once more, pressing herself against him, tighter. He shuddered before pushing her hips down with a hand.

Gently thrusting his fingers in and out, Draco let his other hand wander and find her sweet arse which was lifted well off the mattress by this point.

Hermione's eyes rolled to the back of her head in shock and awe, barely keeping in her distressed moans that littered the room.

Draco's body was tense; so unbelievably tense as she felt the muscles in his back ripple against her hands.

Her moans increased in staccato, almost painful and Hermione swore to God that nothing should feel this good and be wrong. And with that final tug of the niggling through at the back of her brain, she succumbed to the overwhelming tidal wave of pleasure that began pulling her under. Her body tensed, so close, so astonishingly close to the edge, brimming, filling as Draco's taunting lips that sucked, nipped and teased with increasing fervour.

She closed her eyes tightly, nails digging into his back as another was fisted tightly in his silky smooth locks.

Her legs were tense and wrapped tightly around Draco's neck as he assaulted her senses. She was bucking off the bed but he held her down, his unrelenting tongue and fingers never stopping and she didn't want it to stop.

She wanted _more_; so much _more._

"Stop," she panted.

Draco pulled away from the alluring scent and taste of her sex and looked at her in complete vexation.

He growled in frustration. So close and she stopped him? Did she live to torture him, to drive him insane with lust and then take away the one thing that might satisfy it a bit?

Ok, her coming would probably drive him completely insane, like fire meeting gas, but he _wanted_ it, damn it, he _needed_ it. He needed to hear her moan, to scream his name as she came against his mouth. He needed to come at the same time as her, to imagine that it wasn't his finger that her body was convulsing around, to…

But he _couldn't_.

"Please, make me let you feel better," he choked out in a panicked crescendo and his anxious gaze raked her face or any sign of clue of what she was thinking.

"More," she whispered, so soft that he was almost sure that he had imagined it.

"What?" he murmured, lifting himself back up her heated body and Hermione gasped as she felt the hard length of his cock against her for the first time.

Her eyes were dark with lust after stopping so close to her orgasm. With dilated pupils that were slowly receding and a pale flush on her cheeks with worn lips, she looked utterly delectable.

"Have sex with me," she said, more sure of herself and Draco nearly collapsed on top of her, his arms shaking.

"What?" His voice trembled. He was really beginning to sound like a blundering baboon.

"Please, take me. Fuck me. Screw me. Make _love_ to me," she said with increasing desperation.

"No. I am _not_ popping your proverbial cherry, Granger. I may be taking advantage of you right now, but I certainly will _not_ go that far," he stated, almost _sure _of himself.

"_Malfoy_! You said you would make me feel better! Just _please_, just do it. Just _take _it from me. It's not that hard, and you certainly never cared about me before. So just take full advantage of me, Malfoy. I don't mind. Just _take it from me,_" she argued, pressing herself up closer to his body, her arms dragging him down to gyrate her hips against his and he suppressed a long shuddering groan as his traitorous body responded against his will.

He was losing control, she could tell. He really was losing a battle with himself.

"No, you can't! You can't just give that to me! At least without me giving something in return!" He said almost desperately.

"Then give me something," she said, her eyes dilated with hunger, lids hooded, the candlelight silhouette of her long lashes dancing across her cheeks.

His gaze raked her face, taking in the shadows, the sharp incline of her high cheekbones, the dark hair that spread haphazardly behind her like an eagle spreading its wings for the first time in wild abandon. "What can I give you? I have _nothing_ to give," he choked out.

Hermione gave a timid smile. "Give me what I wanted 14 days ago." He widened his eyes and she grinned in amusement. "And in case you were wondering, yes, I _have_ been counting."

Draco let out a breathless sigh of relief. "Granger, I'm here right now. Why else would I be here other than you?"

She jutted her chin forwards, and brought him further up her body until he was firmly pressed up against her, his nose brushing against hers and warm, harsh breath against her lips. "I'd just like to hear it," she murmured, ever so soft, and he hissed as her hot breath assaulted the sensitive flesh of his ear.

"Oh by Salazar, I want you, Granger. I want you, I want you, I want you. I want you so bad that it fucking _hurts_ when I can't have you. When I _know_ I can't have you. I want your entire body to be mine, I have absolutely no idea why, but I just _do_. Granger, please be mine, please let me kiss you, please, oh Merlin, _please_ let me touch you and let me never let go." By this point, he was panting, his ragged breath falling on her face as he grinded his hips into hers forcefully.

Hermione licked her lips and wound her fingers tightly into his hair, pulling him down so her lips could meet the shell of his ear. She kissed it softly before biting down, _hard_. "Perfect, Malfoy. You gave me what I wanted, so now give me what I want _right now_."

He shuddered against her and pulled back, gingerly. "I―I―"

But he was interrupted by Hermione's persistent lips which sought out his and with a second of trying to avoid her welcoming lips, he surrendered and pressed back with fervour that matched her own. All thought was immediately washed away from his mind to recede into the corners with the rest of his concerns because right now, at this moment, he was kissing Hermione Granger, and Hermione Granger was kissing _him._

He pulled back for an instant, to quickly unbuckle her navy blue bra and to throw it haphazardly across the room, uncaring as he ravished her near-bare body.

His hands wildly searched her feverish skin, playing with her nipples as she arched her body into his. His lips left hers and she protested with a groan however his lips soon began a scorching wet path down her body. Suckling down her jaw line, savouring her slightly salty skin, leaving pale pink suction marks and began to venture even lower, to nip and lick at her nipples as his hand played with the other.

Hermione gasped and gripped tightly onto his back, leaving small crescent indents dotted along his skin.

"Draco, please, _now_!" She commanded, breathlessly.

He lifted his head. "Are you sure?" He questioned.

"Goddamn it, Malfoy, you're so infuriating! Yes! Of course, yes!" She exclaimed.

Draco pulled back for a second, away from her heated skin and Hermione groaned in objection at the lack of contact and the cool air travelling between their warmth. He revelled in her beautiful features; the drastic curve of her hip, her long milky legs wrapped tightly around his waist that drew him closer and closer, the heaving of her chest and firm breasts.

He took a shuddering breath before pressing his lips back on her once more and shakily removing her simple, black cotton underwear which rested low on her high rising hips. She watched his pale fingers and in response, found the band of his boxers and teased the edge, dipping a finger in and sliding along his creamy skin.

The minute he'd gotten rid of her panties, he pushed her teasing hand aside to pull down his boxers and Hermione's eyes widened as his length suddenly sprang forth, unrestrained.

Her eyes darted nervously towards his lust ridden ones before she reached out for his crashing lips once more.

"I shouldn't do this," Draco murmured, kissing her quickly with sharp, furious pecks, gripping her lower lip tightly with his teeth. "You don't—it shouldn't be with me—it should be with, with fuckface, the Weasley, with someone you have a—have a fucking future with—"

Hermione stopped his ranting simply by unravelling her legs that rested on his hips and tightening them higher along his back so that now his cock was gently prodding her already wet and silken entrance.

All thought was banished from his mind as his eyes focused on hers, and at that very moment, she was his sole purpose.

"Bite my lip," he whispered in her ear. "Tell me if it hurts too much."

Hermione nodded, and found his lips latched onto hers and she instantly captured his bottom lip, her body tensing.

"Relax, sweetheart," Draco murmured, sensing her unease.

She sighed into his mouth as he positioned himself, and with one thrust, pushed himself into her tight cavern, right through her hymen.

Draco almost cried out but kept his mouth shut as he felt Hermione bite hard into his lip, practically drawing blood.

He was seeing spots; this couldn't possibly feel so good. How could she be so fucking _goddamn _tight? And he wasn't even the entire way in yet. He fought his primal instinct to simply pound into her without a thought and instead directed his gaze away from the headboard and to her shut-eyed face.

He could feel her pained gasps of air as she released his bottom lip and Draco immediately felt guilty. "Relax, sweetheart," he murmured. "I'm so sorry, Granger."

She opened her eyes and he met her chocolate orbs.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," he said in panic, drawing himself away from her, pulling his length out of her hastily to not cause her anymore pain.

"No!" She exclaimed, and immediately clamped her legs tightly around him, forcing him back into her warm channel that felt like liquid silk being wrapped around his cock to near suffocation. Her hips bucked upwards and he found himself sinking even further into her until he was embedded to the very hilt and he suppressed a long groan, instead letting out a hiss of pained air out between his teeth.

Hermione's eyes rolled to the back of her head, letting the pain ebb away, as Draco remained perfectly still above her, lest his quaking arms.

She opened her eyes to find his eyes so rimmed with black from hunger. "Move," she said.

"Are you―" He questioned.

"Malfoy, just _move_," she said testily, hitching her legs higher up and Draco finally relinquished a long shuddering groan.

He slid out of the all encompassing heat of her sex, almost completely out, to only urgently thrust back into her as she let out a small moan of surprise, her rosy lips forming a perfect 'o'.

Draco sucked in a harsh breath as he continued his torturous pace, rocking her backwards for her to only push back forwards towards him.

She clawed at his back, gasping each time he surged forwards, her body arching at the sensation. She could feel his tense body and she knew he was restraining himself. Peering up, she saw a light sheen of sweat from his overexertion to control himself on his forehead where his snowy locks hung.

"Draco," she moaned as he surged into her once more. "Faster."

His eyes snapped to her before opening his mouth to ask but Hermione simply tightened her legs around his torso and he began to ride her faster. His pace immediately increased and Hermione found herself gasping at the sudden change in tempo. Draco was still restraining himself, knowing that if he truly let himself go, he wouldn't last long.

He cursed out harsh breaths as her keening gasps urged him on. He was far too close already. He felt like a 14 year old boy.

"Sorry, sweetheart," he groaned. "We're going to have to push this along." And with that, he dropped to his elbows and rested his entire weight on one elbow whilst his other hand ventured down her body to rub frantically at her clit.

It was as if his thrusts were crotchets, his long dragged out breaths were minims and the relentless circling of her clit were quavers jumping in staccato.

"Oh lord," Hermione gasped, the inexcusable pressure building in her lower abdomen towards breaking point. Her toes pointed and curled as her calves tensed around Draco's torso almost painfully.

"Look at me," he instructed her.

Her eyes opened before fluttering shut as he hit her with another rough thrust.

"Look at me, Granger," he demanded with a ragged breath.

Hermione forced her eyes open and brown met grey, both eyes betraying hunger for one another.

And before she could stop herself, she felt her entire body shake, build high, ever-so-high, and fall, slipping over the edge as a loud ragged moan was torn from her throat. Throwing her head back, her hips lifted high off the mattress, back arching painfully and desperate tugs of anything she could hold onto of him; her orgasm ripping through her simultaneous with the ripping of time itself.

Draco nearly exploded the minute he felt her inner muscles rippling tightly around his already pulsing cock but he shook the black spots from his eyes as he watched her in rapture.

Her body collapsed immediately as Draco's hips continued thrusting into her, rocking the last of her orgasm out of her, sending shudders and breathy moans to tumble out of her lips.

It was only after, once she'd had her fill, that he allowed that one, tiny taste of luxury and began thrusting himself into her ruthlessly, the sound of skin slapping on skin echoing across the stone chamber of her room.

"Fuck," he cursed. "My wand!"

"What?" She murmured, lazily.

"Granger! My wand! I need my wand," he shouted in a panicked tone.

Hermione merely furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

"Fuck, do you want to get pregnant, Granger? I need to cast the contraceptive spell!" He hissed. "Oh, _fuck_," he groaned as he starved himself off his pleasure for one more second.

"Oh!" Hermione widened her eyes. "It's fine."

Draco's eyes boggled whilst gritting his teeth painfully. "What do you _mean_ its fine? Do you want a little baby Malfoy?"

She merely leant up to press a kiss to his shoulder before murmuring, "Its fine. I'm taking something muggle. Don't worry. Trust me."

He let out a low guttural groan and Draco was far beyond the point of caring as he thrust roughly and without abandon into her protesting pussy.

He buried his head into the crook of her neck, breathing in once more her intoxicating scent before biting down hard as his orgasm exploded throughout his entire body, reaching his very fingers and toes, stopping him to a complete standstill as he groaned loudly from the waves of pleasure that were washing over him relentlessly.

Draco's arms shook from the pressure of holding himself up as to not crush her body but they immediately gave way the minute the last dregs of his orgasm washed away, causing him to collapse onto Hermione.

She let out a huff of air from her lungs as his body crashed into hers and she simply drew soothing circles against his back which was now marred by deep pink crescent indentions.

She gingerly unwrapped her legs from his torso as he lifted his panting body off hers to collapse once more beside her, pulling Hermione into his chest.

Draco took one more deep breath of her fragrance before murmuring, "So tell me about this muggle contraceptive and how likely it is that there will be another Malfoy Junior running around on this world."

Hermione smiled against his chest, sighing before she fell asleep as his fresh scent of clean laundry wrapped around her, drawing her to sleep.

**AN. Alright, three weeks, one week longer than I promised earlier. But in my defence, I was trekking the wilderness last weekend and had my yearly exams for school. HOWEVER, to make up for my delayed update, I have made this chapter nice and long and juicy (; (;**

**So I was not expecting the actual sex to be _quite_ so long, but oh well. Now I don't want this story to be a completely empty horny shell of what it used to be, but ya know... It's nice to take a break from all this character building and plot development just for some mindless sexual tension and sex.**

**Please tell me what you think. This took a _whole_ 3 weeks to write and I wrote practically every day for those 3 weeks and I'd really love to see what you think of my baby (:**


	10. Science

**DISCLAIMER: You know the drill, I own nothing except the frayed edges of this rough plot. JK Rowling is amazing and she should be considered our world leader.**

**Chapter 10; Science**

Hermione woke to the steady breathing and a rising and falling chest behind her. Streaks of light shone through the jail that the cloudy sky held and reached her eyes as she noticed a pair of warm, heated arms wrapped loosely around her.

She marvelled at the bare skin that was pressed tightly against her with strewn sheets that were tangled between limbs.

Groaning at waking up far too early, she nuzzled back into the pillow, ignoring the niggling pain between her legs.

_It did feel quite nice didn't it?_ She thought, her legs rubbing against one of the strangers to create a pleasurable friction.

_Hold on a second_.

She paused. This definitely wasn't right.

Hermione's eyes wearily opened, blinking at the harsh morning light that blinded her.

Turning as smoothly as she could, she eased herself around the heavy arms that pinned her down and found herself face to face with an angel.

An angel with alabaster skin that was completely devoid of all emotion and snowy white locks. He looked like a fallen angel. Completely vulnerable and oh so tempting.

Shame that he wasn't like this all the time.

Eyelashes of dusted pale gold framed his lids as they fluttered slightly, protesting to the light that littered the room.

"Fuck, Granger, shut the blinds will you?" The pale pink lips that were still a little battered and bruised spoke.

Hermione smiled and in response, sunk deeper into the sheets just as a pair of long arms tightened around her waist, pulling her into his chest which was rising and falling at a steady tempo.

Draco hummed in contentment for the first time in quite a while. The heavy ball of stress that had been growing in an almost painful manner had receded away to make way for a peaceful bliss that had overtaken his mind as he brought the warmth of her body closer towards his, smirking as she gave in with no resistance.

She found the exposed skin of his neck and buried her nose into it, inhaling his intoxicating scent of morning dew on fresh grass mixed with a faint hint of arousal.

"Granger," he warned, body shifting lazily. "Don't do that."

She raised her head in question, her lids opening once more to find his teasing gaze.

A silence hung between the two, uncomfortable, stifling; filled with unanswered questions.

_What to do? How to act? Who to tell?_

Hermione tore her gaze off of his contemplative slate grey eyes that seemed to darken with every passing second.

"I―I―I'm going to take a shower," she stuttered through the silence that was suffocating the pair of them, neither of them refusing to talk.

She sat up and gathered the burgundy sheet in her hand, towards her chest, before stumbling off the bed, her legs caught in the tangled sheets.

Hermione refused to look back at his now obviously bare body as she struggled to walk to the bathroom. Draco watched her with a raised eyebrow, stretching his legs out languidly and shaking away the clustered thoughts that had littered his mind for a second as she stared at him earlier with questioning amber eyes. The tension had been palpable.

But he refused to dwell on them at the current moment. He refused to speak of them until she admitted them.

He'd already come to her.

He'd fucking come to _her_.

His pride had taken enough of a beating and asking her about their 'relationship' wasn't doing great things to his ego.

Draco heard the sound of the shower being turned on and he grinned devilishly. Just because he refused to speak to her first didn't mean he'd have to keep away did it?

Hermione sighed into the steam, the relentless pounding of water hot enough to make her skin flush, drawing out her tensed muscles.

She nibbled the bottom of her lip worriedly at the ache between her legs that veered between pleasure and pain but ignored it, instead reaching for some soap and began methodically washing herself, ridding her body of any evidence of last night's encounter other than the faint pink suction marks on her jaw and neck and a few dappled bruises from forcefully hands on her hips.

Hermione groaned at the uncomfortable silence earlier that morning. Why didn't he say something? Was she meant to say something?

She was never particularly good at deciphering people's emotions and Malfoy was just as mercurial as he always was.

She hated the fact that she knew nothing of what was going on inside that head of his. Was she still part of his game? Did she truly honestly believe that?

Was she just a rough tumble between the sheets?

How _could_ she have been so stupid? She couldn't believe she'd actually done that! With Malfoy no less.

But she remembered the smouldering glances he'd sent her, the groans that had left his lips, the way he'd pulled her towards him.

How could she ever deny her feelings now that she'd done that with him?

However, Draco Malfoy's feelings on the entire matter were far beyond her realm of knowledge. He'd given her what she'd ask for. He told her that he'd wanted her. Was he merely saying that to have her?

No, she asked him to take her.

And in that vulnerable state it was perfectly logical in her head.

He'd told her that he was taking advantage of her. But he'd told her that she could tell him to stop.

Her thoughts were spinning wildly out of control as she tried to grapple with the threads of conversation that were morphed with the pleasure of the memory.

It was as if Malfoy had hit a nerve, a nerve that was now completely exposed to the fresh air that held all her most definitely _illogical_ emotions. Fresh air that smelt like clean laundry and the forest.

Hermione was so well into her thoughts and mechanical actions of cleaning herself that she failed to notice the bathroom door creaking open.

And immediately, a pair of firm arms wrapped around her waist and as Hermione prepared to scream, a heated body stepped up behind her as a hot breath tickled the back of her ear.

"Miss me?" He prompted, breathing against her ear before capturing it between his teeth and biting down.

She relaxed and almost instantaneously tensed up again.

His looming body pressed up against hers until she was backed inadvertently against the cool tile of the shower.

And before she could respond; his hot lips that had explored her last night were crashing up against Hermione's once more. She matched him, lick for lick, bite for bite and Draco could feel his well constructed control of rules when he was with a stranger fall once again to leave him feeling entire vulnerable and entirely at the power of her hands.

Hermione's arms wound around his neck and brought him closer, her fingers pulling at the hair at the base of his neck as he rewarded her with an audible groan that was drowned between lips.

Screw everything. Screw everything that he'd been taught. Screw his jeering peers. Screw his stupid fucking conscience.

He wanted her. He _needed _her.

And last night was just a taste.

She felt like fire against his skin, burning through his nerve-endings, electrifying them.

His hands gripped her thighs, lifting her up the cool tiles as she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist, gasping in surprise.

Draco's eyes were dark, crackling with electricity as he peppered scorching kisses far hotter than the heated stream of water that was pounding between the two of them, soaking his hair, plastering it to his forehead.

Her head was thrown back as he suckled on her nipple before paying homage to the other; just enough to ensure that she was ready.

"Granger, I never got to ask if you were feeling okay after last night, but I guess we'll find out, won't we?" He hissed.

Her hands clawed at his back the minute he entered her entirely too tight channel that seemed to wrap around his desire and suck him in to endless bliss.

His teeth scraped against her neck almost agonizingly as she let out a keening moan of pleasure and pain from between her lips.

Her legs were clamped painfully around his narrow hips as he violently thrust into her without control, causing a pained yelp from Hermione.

"Sorry, princess," he managed to murmur between pants. "I forgot myself for a second."

She gripped his icy blonde hair as he pulled away only to surge back into her once more. His movements were agonisingly slow, devastatingly so as she urged him on but he remained poised and stoic. The only indication of his rapidly spiralling control being his almost wounded groans that were murmured into her neck.

It was an orchestra of the most intimate musical instruments.

The relentless pounding of water on their skin and scattering on the tiles, the sharp slap of skin on skin as their hips clashed together, the audible moans that were wrenched from their lips, the crescendo of heaving, ragged breaths.

Sweat blended seamlessly with the water, only to wash away down the drain.

Hermione felt her legs tighten around his legs as she bucked back with every imposing thrust of his hips. She could feel her body begin to tense as the pressure that was straining in her abdomen threatened to burst. Her mind was fixed on solely one thing as she tossed her head back, eyes shut, feeling the smooth pressure of his length of desire against her and the roar of the shower.

"Draco," she gasped as he began to thrust roughly into her, his entire body as tight as an arched bow.

She could feel the relentless building of something inexplicable that bordered between pleasure and pain. And before she could even realise, her entire body was shaking as her orgasm was ripped from her, a long, heady moan of release soaking the air.

Draco hissed loudly as he felt her ripple around his cock that dragged him even deeper into her. His restraint was short lived, as he pounded into her mercilessly, striving for the pleasure that he'd desperately tried to evade earlier. He groaned loudly into her neck as he felt himself burst, releasing himself into her as his arms trembled from the pressure of holding her up as his release spread across him, reaching his extremities, from the tip of his fingers to the curl of his toes.

He reluctantly relinquished his hold on the curve of her arse to let her fall clumsily up against the tiles, the shower continuing its harsh course, spray rebounding off their skin to land against the stark white tiles to drip down once more.

Hermione felt her sore legs touch the slippery tiles of the floor, only to crumple beneath her.

Draco's eyes widened in surprise before reflexively catching her and pulling her up for her to rest on his chest. He attempted to measure out his ragged breathing pattern but instead found himself to be breathing even harder as she forcefully sucked on his neck.

"Don't do that," he warned.

She lifted her head and raised her eyebrows at him. "You still won't tell me why not, will you?"

He leant down to capture her lips that seemed to spread like fire through his veins before shaking his head teasingly.

"Well, I guess…" She trailed off, to resume sucking and biting on his neck at the sensitive junction right above his collarbone as Draco sucked in a desperate gulp of air.

He pushed her off of him, and back onto the wall. "Oh Granger, you're going to regret that," he murmured as he attacked her lips that were already bruised from passion.

"Do you regret it?" She mumbled between his rough kisses.

In one fluid motion he tore his lips of her and pulled away completely, removing all traces of contact between the two, standing on the opposite side of the stream of water.

Draco violently reached to turn off the shower leaving the empty space between them bare as steam coiled and unfurled upwards.

"I'm sorry," she rushed. "I didn't mean―"

He shut her up with a single smouldering look. "I know I should."

"What?" She queried.

"Last night. I know I should regret it."

She looked at him with half lidded eyes, framed with long, thick lashes that had trapped water in its hold.

"But how can I when it's like you're designed to bring me apart at the very seams?" He cursed. "I'm going insane aren't I, Granger?"

Hermione pursed her lips. "Do you like kissing me?"

He shot her a murderous glare. "Ask me if I like betraying my family."

"They betrayed you first," she murmured.

He gave her a look filled with sinister intent and she immediately recoiled as an act of self preservation. "Don't talk to me about my parents," he murmured vehemently.

"You seem to have a lot of boundaries," she challenged.

"I am under no pretence of my parents being kind-hearted or sappily happy. I know they are sorry excuses for human beings but that doesn't mean _you, _of all people, get to speak of them like that."

He uttered the exact thoughts that she'd been voicing in her mind.

She withdrew away from him, rapidly turning away, her long locks whipping his cheek as she reached for the door of the shower and stumbled out, gathering a towel up around her haphazardly before backing away from him as if he'd burnt her.

"No, Granger. Please. I didn't mean it like that," he said rapidly in desperation as he followed her out of her shower to the tiny floor space of the bathroom.

She stepped out of the door, back into her bedroom, her back facing his the entire time.

Draco followed without hesitation, hastily grabbing a towel to wrap around his hips. "Please, I'm sorry. I got carried away. I―"

He was interrupted just as she turned around to shoot him a withering glare. "Oh don't you dare try and buy yourself out of it this time, Malfoy. What did you mean by, '_you_, of all people'? What am I, Mafoy?"

He fumbled with his words.

"Say it, Malfoy. What am I?"

"I― I―" He stuttered.

"Oh, come on. You never had much trouble saying it before," she goaded.

He remained stoically silent.

"Quit being noble, Malfoy," she shot violently. "Say it. Say what you've been saying for every year that you've known me."

His jaw was taut and tense.

"Say what I am. You know you want to. You want to put me in my place don't you?"

Draco was breathing harshly.

"Come off your high horse, Malfoy. Say it. Say it like you've said it for every day of my life that I've known you."

His restraint snapped. "Fine!" He exclaimed. "Mudblood," Draco hissed. "Mudblood, mudblood, mudblood."

Her eyes narrowed wickedly before turning away. "Thank you, Malfoy. I hope you feel better now that you've put me in my place."

He groaned loudly in frustration. "Granger, please. I can't change who I am. I―I know I'm not worth it," he said desperately. "And the fact that I've been calling you inexcusable names is just proof. I know it. I've known it since the minute I met you, Granger. I've known it every single bloody day that I've seen you with your pompous attitude. I've known it for every fucking day that I've seen you look at me with _pity_," he drew a breath and Hermione was silent for once. "And I'm fucking _sorry_ that I don't show how astounding, remarkable, _incredible _I think you are because I know deep down that I do _not_ deserve to even _speak_ to you. And you can call me stupid, idiotic, a _bastard_ if the only way I can try to forget or _cope_ with the fact that you, Granger, muggle-born, someone who I _know_ is below me yet is somehow better than I could ever be, is to fucking push you down, _destroy _you, make you _believe_ that you are nothing, which is in fact, so _fucking_ untrue."

She could hear his ragged breaths.

"I'm a _bastard_, Princess. I took advantage of you last night because that is _who _I am. I'm a fucking bastard."

Hermione watched him with weary eyes. His body was tense, shoulders slumped in defeat yet the muscles in his jaw were clamped together, prominent veins popping against his neck. She noticed that his knuckles were stark white, his fists clenched tightly into balls. He looked like a wounded angel.

With frantic, agile steps, she crossed the distance between the two and her hands found the nape of his neck, pulling him down to her waiting lips that captured his silently.

He unconsciously melted into her heated kiss that reignited all his senses, memorising her taste, the way her fragrance penetrated his nostrils, the sharp sucks of her lips, the silky smooth feeling of her bare skin on his as his hands slipped through her wet locks.

"You told me that you wanted me last night," she murmured against his lips, just loud enough for him to hear.

He kissed her back with passion that overrode his senses in response. "Of course."

Hermione pulled back for a second, just a hairs breath away from his pouting lips that were a dramatic rosy hue, a stark contrast to his ivory features.

"This so wrong," she whispered into his ear as he shivered from her heated breath. "What you said just proves how absolutely _wrong_ this all is."

"I know, Granger. But can we just not care for now?"

She simply sunk back into his waiting lips that eagerly devoured her. She would abandon reason and logic. Just this once. Just for now.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

"No you're wrong! Something which such a high magnetism for negative ions and with such a high acidity, when combined with the detoxifying agent of the valerian sprigs will turn into combustion!" Hermione exclaimed

Draco groaned in frustration. "Not if you _counteract_ the acidity with a base-like substance."

"Malfoy, I went to muggle school. If you do that, you'll just end up with a salt and water," she replied angrily. "And in that case, the highly reactive horn of manticore will react with the salt and you'll end up with a concoction which could send you to the hospital!"

"Well, guess what. We're _not_ going to muggle school, we're at _Hogwarts_."

She rolled her eyes. "That doesn't mean that the muggle scientific theories can't be applied! Magic is simply an extension of scientific principles."

"Granger, we all know that _I _am better at potions than you," he gloated.

She shot him a withering glare. "You most definitely are not," she shot back.

Draco shot a crooked grin in response.

"The only reason why you've been doing better is me is because we've been having _Snape_ for every single year up to now. And we all know how much he absolutely hates everybody that's not Draco Malfoy."

"I can't help if I'm his godson," Draco shrugged. "And you're only saying that because you know that I'm still better at potions than you."

She narrowed his eyes at him. "And you're only saying that because you know that _I'm right_ on this."

He shook in aggravation. The witch was so bloody stubborn. "Fine," he stated with pursed lips. "Would you like to see me brew the potion?"

Hermione sucked in a breath. She absolutely _knew_ that she was right. But she didn't want him to get hurt. "Malfoy, stop being so inflexible and just understand that I am right this time. You'll get hurt."

"Wow, for a second, it sounded like you cared," he bit back scathingly.

She rolled her eyebrows at him and approached him. Instead, he stopped her.

"You're stubborn as fuck you know?" He mused to himself.

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. "It's your fault that you always need to argue."

Draco scoffed. "And you decide to argue back, sweetheart."

She began to back away from him once more. He was so wrong, so _frustrating_ and condescending and absolutely had _none_ of the traits that she wanted in a man. "Why are we even doing this?" She murmured, quietly, almost entire drowned out by the crackling of the fire in the corner of her room.

He cocked his head to the side in question. "If you mean the potion, then―"

"Malfoy. This isn't right. Even if we ignore the fact that we simply should not, _cannot_, be together, we simply don't fit. We're just too similar in all the wrong things. You argue, _I argue_, you refuse to back down and neither will I. It's just too tiring to argue and fight with you all the time."

"I don't care," he murmured, moving closer to her body in which he'd gotten so used to for the past day.

The darkness of night dawned on them, and with that, fresh arguments and opposing opinions. It was as if every second in which they weren't kissing, they were fighting or apologising for fighting.

"Malfoy. We're just too alike in the things that aren't meant to fit. It's just illogical to keep trying. We're like…" She halted to find a word. "Like two insoluble substances. We're exactly the same, yet we can't mix together."

Draco raised an eyebrow in question. "I'm just going to pretend that I understood what you just said."

She couldn't explain the timid smile that graced her lips. Neither could she couldn't explain the inexplicable warmth that spread through her as his arms wrapped around her slowly and hesitantly. She could feel his breath, could feel his pulse fluttering beneath her lips.

"You're absolutely crazy, you know that?" His charcoal grey eyes glittered and she found herself being lost in them once more.

"I really am," she murmured as she leant forward to suck his neck.

"Granger," he warned, hissing in a pained breath. "Don't do that."

She raised her eyebrows in mock surprise. "And may I ask again, in case you feel up to sharing, why?"

"Don't laugh, okay?" He said and Hermione nodded in response. Taking in a deep breath he quickly whispered directly above her ear, "It's like my neck is directly connected to my cock."

Hermione let out a loud yelp of laughter, almost falling over before she found his imposing body towering over her, his even breath hot on her cheek. "I told you not to laugh," he murmured wickedly just as his lips came crashing onto hers and together, they fell in a clumsy heap back onto her bed.

His lips wildly claimed hers in desperation and their frustration with one another quickly evaporated into pure unadulterated lust.

Draco planted quick desire-filled pecks against her already passion bruised lips as his hands travelled across her body, itching to remove the oversized shirt she'd worn for the day, claiming it to be, 'muggle clothing.'

He fisted a corner of the shirt and pulled it abruptly down, showing off her form as he nipped down her jaw line to the base of her neck.

He dipped his head into the crook of her neck to inhale her intoxicating scent that drove him insane. He wondered if he could bring her to the Manor to visit his mother's garden in which she smelt so deliciously off right now but he quickly shook that thought from his mind.

Hermione felt her hips rotating against his incredibly obvious tenting of his slacks despite his efforts to hold her hips in place with his firm hands.

However, before Draco could venture any further, a cold, sharp knock resounded through the hardwood door.

The two of them froze before Draco jumped off her to the opposite end of the bed.

"Who is it?" He murmured, barely audible over the howling wind.

"I don't know!" She exclaimed in a hiss of breath.

The intruder standing outside her bedroom door knocked once again.

"Go, go, go!" She hissed.

Draco's eyes widened before stepping into action. Quickly gathering his fallen robe that had lain discarded on the floor for the past day, he reached for his Firebolt and headed to the window as Hermione followed his movements with her anxious eyes.

He paused by the window for a second before she shooed him out. "Go! I'll see you in class on Monday."

Draco gave her one final look, memorising the features of her face, before quickly jumping out of the window to bring his Firebolt underneath him and zoom away back to his dormitory, arctic wind whipping past him.

Hermione hastily closed the latch of the window before taking a deep breath and opening the door to find a grave faced Professor McGonagall.

And immediately, the sudden rush of repressed emotions that she'd suppressed for the past day with Draco began creeping back. She forced her face to remain neutral and calm. She'd already proven herself weak to her parents for not being able to protect them, she would be strong now. "Professor," Hermione said, stiffly.

"Miss Granger," the older witch said, curiously looking around the room. "I could've sworn you had company."

The Gryffindor shook her head. "I'm sorry, you must be mistaken."

"Never mind then," the Professor shook off with a wave. "I wasn't able to find you today and I'm just here to warn you."

"Of what?" She enquired.

"I got word from Arthur that the _Prophet_," she spit out those words with vehemence, "Will be publishing your parents' deaths in the Monday edition."

Hermione blanched, blinking furiously. "The prophet really makes everything difficult doesn't it?"

The Headmistress smiled in distaste. "Especially that Rita Skeeter."

The brunette sat down in her bed, her legs shaking. "Thank you, Professor," she said numbly, gesturing for McGonagall to leave.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Hermione curled up into a ball on her bed, shaking, no tears, just trembling as tremors wrecked havoc on her body.

No tears fell as she gingerly and numbly picked herself up from her fetal position on the bed.

It was bad enough that her parents were dead and she was the reason for it, now it would be rubbed in her face with those fake, plastic sympathetic faces that would suffocate her.

Her weakness had been the death of her parents and now she would pay for it.

It was science and logic after all.

**AN. Dayum, back to the deep metaphorical emotions. It is surprisingly easy to write about feelings, far easier than working on the plot. Ah well, I _do_ want to be a psychiatrist when I graduate and moonlight as something to do with literature.**

**Sorry, I am getting off track. Anyway, bowchickawowwow, I hope you liked this chapter! I actually finished this on Wednesday because I'm doing nanowrimo, and instead of writing an entire book because I completely forgot about nanowrimo and I had a day to think of a plot, I decided to just use this story as my 'book'. I'm writing 1,000 words a day, which isn't much I know, but I do have school and such.**

**Lots of love.**

**Please R & R. It really helps me write and you don't want me to stop this story do you? Well, I hope you don't.**


	11. Feral

**DISCLAIMER: yadadada. You know it all. JK Rowling owns Harry Potter and each and every character, plot and any original creative piece made by her.**

**INSPIRATION FOR THIS CHAPTER: Isolation Chapter 21 if my memory serves to be correct. If you don't know what that is, I don't trust you to have proper judgement on my story because mine is just like a peasant compared to it.**

**Chapter 11; Feral**

Draco dragged himself up from his bed which was starkly unwelcoming compared to Granger's.

The past two nights were the only two nights in which he hadn't been plagued with nightmares of darkness since last summer and he revelled in the newly found sleep that had been evading him for months at a time.

Granted, he hadn't stayed the night with her last night, but he could still smell her lingering scent on his clothes and on his skin.

Draco gingerly lifted his hand up to his shoulders to find some red, crescent welts. Smiling to himself, he rolled out of bed, landing in a thump on the floor before picking himself up to pull on his robes.

It was Monday, and he realised that he was going to see her in class.

And he had no idea how to act.

He immediately berated himself and shaking his head, Draco fumbled with the buttons of his white oxford shirt. It wasn't as if he talked to her normally anyway so there was no proper way to act towards her in public.

He groaned into his hands. He needed to control his thoughts. He wouldn't be caught _dead_ thinking such inappropriate _pansy_ thoughts of Granger.

Draco Malfoy was certainly going crazy wasn't he?

_I bet it's the isolation speaking_, he mused to himself as he remembered her hot, scorching lips.

Fuck, he need to stop.

He needed to stop thinking of her.

He seemed like a love-sick fool.

He was putty in her hands, drooling along behind her just like that Weasley.

Draco Malfoy could never lose his cool head.

But how could he just simply stop when she was so utterly intoxicating?

,

* * *

><p>.<p>

He sat calmly at the end of the Slytherin breakfast table, idly spooning porridge into his mouth as his eyes were fixated on a mane of dark locks of curly hair down her back that sprung from her messy ponytail with growing intensity.

Draco's thumb idly traced circles on his palm as he watched her crack a smile at the red headed girl's antics.

He wondered if he could ever make her smile like that.

A flurry of owls came through the Great Hall, a mess of brown, black and white, flapping their wings and swooping low over tables to either land or just simply drop off the package before flying off once more.

Draco barely noticed as a tawny brown school owl dropped the Prophet down directly before him and waited impatiently for payment as he continued to absentmindedly observe the other owls.

With one final painful nip to his finger, Draco let out a bark, dropping his spoon with a clatter before glaring at the owl. The students next to him either sniggered or scooted away.

He untied the daily Prophet from the owl's foot and handed placed some spare coins in the leather pouch before it took off with a hoot.

Draco grumbled as he unrolled the newspaper to find a very disturbing headline.

"On Purpose or By Accident? Golden Girl's Parents Dead – _Rita Skeeter_ "

The Great Hall was in a hushed silence.

Those who didn't receive the Daily Prophet soon read on, and all eyes were directed on Hermione Granger who was sitting stock still at the Gryffindor table.

His steel grey eyes because to haze.

Hermione looked around at the room in panic, trying not to panic. She'd already thought this out, she was going to be strong and brush it off. But that ever present niggling at the back of her mind that reminded of her parents deaths was always there, pushing, shoving, trying to break through and shatter her glassy exterior.

She abruptly stood up, her hands trembling and shaking once more from the sheer pressure of suppressing the fiendish emotions.

Draco watched as she ran out of the Great Hall, a mess of bouncing girls whipping behind the corner.

His throat was dry as he tried to wet his parched lips.

Was this why? Was this why she'd so easily given herself to him? Was this why she was crying that night? Was this why she'd let him take advantage of her?

He felt the blood drumming behind his ears as all the noises that consumed the Great Hall began fading into the distance.

The Hall seemed unusually bright and seemed to grow smaller and smaller.

Fuck.

He'd taken advantage of her right after her _parents_ had _died_.

Fuck fuck fuck.

He'd never confessed to being a saint, but he would have never stooped that low if he'd known.

Draco unexpectedly stood up, knocking his porridge over and rousing glances from across the Great Hall before turning on his heel to follow her out of the spacious room.

Loud footfalls could be heard far away and Draco followed with long sloping strides that quickly and efficiently covered the distance.

He found her hurrying up a staircase to the portrait of a fat pink lady. "Granger!" He shouted, attempting to draw her attention to the bottom of the staircase where he stood.

Hermione turned around to find a shock of white blonde hair below her.

She forced her shaking to subside, pushing it away. "What are you doing here?" She murmured.

Draco took the steps two at a time and halted one step below her; her breaths coming in distinguishable hot streaks of air gliding across his forehead. "I was just checking―"

"I'm fine." And she turned away from him in a whip of freshly fragranced hair, heading towards the portrait.

Hermione quickly muttered the password before the portrait swang open and she walked inside, but not before Draco caught the portrait with his foot, causing an indignant hoof from the revolting lady in pink.

He easily slid into the common room and nearly vomited from the friendliness of it all. He saw a disappearing figure climbing up a spiral staircase and he followed. "Granger, wait," he called out as she continued walking, turning the last bend to reach the door of her dormitory.

"What are you even doing here?" She sighed despondently, opening the door to her room.

"Why can't I?" He challenged.

Hermione shot in a withering look and he smiled back endearingly.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, crossing the distance between the two so that he was a mere millimetre from her, his lips tantalisingly close.

Hermione looked away, her hair in replacement of her face and Draco growled.

"I'm sorry for taking advantage," he whispered. "And that's something I have never ever said. Why didn't you tell me your parents had died that night, Granger?"

The back of her head shook. "I guess it slipped out of my mind," she said deadpanned.

Draco's eyes flashed with sudden anger. "Oh, don't you dare play sarcastic with me," he hissed, stepping into her body so that he could feel every curve of her body as she quivered.

"Might as well, since all you do is play people, _snake_," she hissed back.

Draco narrowed his eyes and focused his gaze to the opposite wall, resting his chin on her head. "Granger," he whispered warningly. "Why didn't you tell me about your parents that night?"

She shrugged. "You seemed fine without me telling you. You even _told_ me that you were taking advantage of me, Malfoy. Don't make it seem as if you didn't want to. We both know you did. Didn't you, Draco Malfoy? Did you like deflowering the mudblood? Did you like it? You wanted do it since the beginning of the year, didn't you?" She recited in a monotone towards the wall with vicious satisfaction.

"Shut up," he hissed. "Stop making fun of this. Don't you think that your parents' _deaths_ are a little more serious?"

She shrugged once again and Draco cursed to himself in frustration.

"For fucks sake, Granger. You're really doing this, aren't you?"

She rolled her eyes at the wall and popped her lips in annoyance.

"You're a fucking crazy bitch."

Hermione let out a bark of laughter.

"You need to fucking _deal_ with this. What are you even doing? Trying to suppress your emotions? Don't be so fickle, Granger. Only the weak don't show their emotions. The strong don't need to hide."

Her body was firm, still and unmoving against his.

He sighed. "The pain is inevitable, but the suffering is optional," he murmured and Hermione shivered as his voice seemed to glide across her ear like velvet. "Get a grip of yourself, Granger."

She suddenly turned around, but her eyes weren't the ones that Draco was so used to; the eyes full of light, like molten amber. Instead, these were cold, unmoving and untrusting, dead to the world.

He noticed that she was shaking. Shaking, but not crying. Not one single tear.

"You're fucking pathetic," he said between clenched jaws, attempting to coax a reaction from her. Anything was better than this; than this cold, distant look in her eyes. He forced himself to be indifferent to her.

"Fuck off, Malfoy," she hissed.

She really had no idea how stunning she was at that very moment. Her long tendrils of hair the colour of autumn leaves and the coffee iris's that flashed with sparks of anger.

Draco grasped onto the first emotion she'd shown. Anger. _Hatred_. Let him be a vessel for her.

Please, oh Salazar, let it work.

He stepped forwards, compelling her to take a step back until she was pushed up against the wall. He circled his fingers around her wrist and brought them up above her head, confining her. "Tell me you hate me."

"Don't play games with me, Malfoy," she argued tensely, trying to shove him off but Draco merely pressed tighter into her, his body formidably taller and larger than hers.

His hands tightened around her wrist and Hermione's eyes flashed with fear. "Tell me how much you hate me."

"You're hurting me," she murmured.

He felt would've liked nothing better than to release her and apologise but she needed this. "It can't be any worse than what you're doing to yourself," he said, coldly.

"What am I doing to myself, Malfoy? Because we all know who the expert is," she counteracted.

He narrowed his eyes at her.

"Oh Malfoy, don't you think I didn't notice? You were wasting away, living off nothing but alcohol. You didn't realise that I saw the tremors? That I saw your little shaking fits? That I saw the look in your eye of pure hatred for yourself?" She scoffed in scorn.

"Don't you think I didn't see either?!" He exclaimed. "I saw you all those months ago, I saw you falling to the ground shaking, trembling and crying."

Her voice caught in her throat.

"But the only difference is, you fucking _let_ yourself cry," he snapped icily. "Unlike now."

His voice was frigid, cold and distant in her ear. The very same Malfoy she'd known all these years.

Draco noticed the dash of pain that sprinkled her features. "Don't you think I didn't notice? That the only tear I've seen you shed since Saturday was that one frozen tear on your cheek? So what I want to know is; _what happened _to the awkward bitch I've known since we first met? Why aren't you letting yourself fucking cry?"

He was forcing her into a corner, giving her no escape. His words filled her ears and were so undeniably true. He was putting words in her mouth, but the thing was, the _words were true_.

And Hermione hated being cornered.

She snapped. "You cried didn't you, Malfoy?" She bit back, scathingly. "I bet you cried when your perfect Father didn't give you what you wanted. I bet you cried when you realised that following Voldemort meant you had no money for yourself. I bet you cried when―"

"Fuck off, Granger. I'm not a superficial little brat," he protested.

"Doesn't look like it, cold, heartless, bastard," she mocked with venom on her tongue in superiority.

"You have no idea―" He started.

"Exactly!" Hermione exclaimed. "You have no idea either! So stop being such a sodding hypocrite, Malfoy."

"Fine," he said sharply. "Why bother when you're just going to continue being your own stubborn self?"

"I have every right to―"

"Yes!" He shouted. "You have every fucking right. Every goddamn fucking right in the universe to be _upset_. _Come on_, Granger. Why won't you let yourself fucking feel?" He goaded her, pulling at her rapidly emerging emotions. "Why pretend to be fine when you're clearly not? Oh, Granger, that façade ain't fooling anyone. Quit being a frigid bitch now, and TELL ME HOW YOU FEEL. Does it hurt? I bet it hurts doesn't it? Do you feel pathetic? Do you feel helpless? TELL ME, YOU FUCKING COMMON WITCH. TELL WHY YOU WONT MAKE YOURSELF FUCKING FEEL," he roared.

She finally snapped. Her perfectly built composure falling with a single audible crack. "BECAUSE I'M NOT MEANT TO!"

_There you go,_ he thought in harsh satisfaction, his lips set in a severe line.

"I'M NOT MEANT TO. I'M NOT MEANT TO. I'M NOT MEANT TO," she screamed, her chest heaving against his and he let her arms fall. "I HATE KNOWING THAT IT WAS _MY _FAULT. ALL MY FAULT. AND IT'S DESTROYING ME!"

Her shoulders slumped. Draco had absolutely no idea what she was on about, but he didn't care.

"Malfoy, please go," her voice was low and hushed.

He remained unmoving before her.

"Why are you doing this?" She said coldly.

"Because you are going to hate me, Granger. Did you know that the only emotion human kind cannot suppress is hatred? And we all know how much you hate me, Princess."

"Leave," she demanded.

He merely looked at her, steadily.

"Malfoy, make it stop," she whimpered.

He laughed. "Don't you see? It never stops. It never fucking stops. The self loathing."

"Stop it," she hissed.

"Stop what? The absolute hatred you have for yourself? I can, Granger. I can stop it. Just hate me instead."

"Leave me."

He saw her deflating, saw the recesses of her previous dead state, the life in her eyes sneaking away. Draco needed to be the same insolent bastard in which even he hated to fill her up with the same burning hatred that she would never let go off despite everything. "Come on sugar, we were just getting started," he scorned, baiting her. "Don't tell me leave when we've only just begun. Or are you going to be a frigid bitch again? Tell me, tell what it feels like? What it feels like to be so utterly pathetic." He sneered.

"Fuck off, Malfoy," she hissed.

"Oh look, the little _mudblood__―_" Draco flinched as he said the word. "―can swear."

She felt venom on her lips and on her teeth. Ice cold poison that dripped from her lips.

"So tell me again, dear Princess. What does it feel like? To be so completely and utterly fucking pathetically helpless?

"You have no idea," she hissed. "You have absolutely no idea. You've been handed everything on a bloody silver platter. You have no idea―"

"YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW?" He roared. "YOU THINK THAT I DON'T UNDERSTAND? OF COURSE I FUCKING UNDERSTAND."

Hermione flinched, his breath hot and ragged on her cheek. Her eyes looked at him in pain and he nearly hated himself for it. But nevertheless, he baited her.

"IT FUCKING HURTS DOESN'T IT? KNOWING THAT YOU'RE WEAK. KNOWING THAT YOU'RE ABSOLUTELY _NOTHING_," he shouted.

"Stop it!"

"YOU ARE FUCKING HELPLESS. YOU ARE―"

"STOP IT!" She screamed.

"THERE'S NOTHING YOU CAN DO. YOU CAN'T DO ANYTHING. AND IT'S ALL YOUR FUCKING FAULT. IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT. AND YOU WON'T LET YOURSELF CRY. YOU WON'T LET YOURSELF FEEL. YOU WANT TO BLOCK OUT YOUR SELF LOATHING. YOU HATE YOURSELF. YOU HATE EVERY SINGLE INCH OF YOUSELF BECAUSE EVERY SINGLE FUCKING INCH OF YOURSELF IS JUST ANOTHER FUCKING PATHETIC PART OF YOU," he drew a long gasp of air. "So tell me, Granger. TELL ME. TELL ME YOU HATE ME. TELL ME HOW MUCH I DISGUST YOU. TELL ME, MUDBLOOD. BECAUSE I'M EXACTLY THE FUCKING SAME AS YOU. I HATE MYSELF. AND YOU WILL HATE ME TOO."

"I HATE YOU!" She exclaimed and without a beat, her hand came colliding across his cheek in hot fury, tears glistening in her eyes.

Draco smiled in grim satisfaction.

He barely felt the crimson burn that inflamed his cheek because immediately after, her hands were frantically grabbing his face, pulling him down and smashing her lips onto his. Hard enough to split lips and to taste blood between their frantic crashing mouths.

_Hate me, Granger._

She bit him with frenzied clashes of teeth.

Her emotions ran raw as she clawed her fingernails across her scalp, grabbing desperate handfuls of his shock blonde hair to pull him inexcusably closer, attempting to inflict as much damage as possible on him.

He could taste her overwhelming desire behind her teeth as his nipped at his bottom lip, coaxing a low groan from him.

She tasted, nipped, sucked on him until his lips were raw.

And he let her hurt him because she needed to. He kissed her back furiously but with no more pain than necessary and certainly nothing compared to the way her nails stabbed into his flesh.

Her hands tore at his clothes, hastily undoing the buttons of his bleached white shirt, throwing it haphazardly across the room the minute it slipped off his arms. Draco pulled and tugged at her shirt, attempting to loosen it as she squirmed in his arms before impatiently ripping it open, buttons scattering across the hardwood floor of her room in disarray. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her naked torso before devouring her lips once again, his hands going wild over the creamy skin of her back, sides and waist, stopping at her hips to finger the fabric of her skirt.

His hands slid in reckless abandon across her feverish skin.

His his his.

Every single inch.

But he shook the thought of his mind for the time being. This was her time.

The temptation to point out to himself that he was doing something dangerously close to selfless for her made him shiver but he remained poised as her lips attacked his.

She quickly found the buckle of his belt and with dexterous fingers, undid it, pulling it roughly out of its socket before pushing the hem of his pants down to slide down his legs, pooling on the floor.

Draco easily unzipped her skirt, pulling it down with both thumbs along with her panties, stripping her bare, her scorching skin pressed tightly against his as he hoisted her up his body, resting her against the wall, her legs wrapping around his torso in a vice like grip.

Salazar save him.

His hungry eyes devoured her with heated looks of passion in between frenzied kisses that coaxed fluttering sensations from the both of them. Hermione's long cocoa brown locks spilled over her shoulders as he pulled and tugged at them, his aristocratic fingers tangling themselves in luxurious curls.

A low throaty moan from her glided over his throat, muffled by his lips brought him back from his consuming gaze over her body and bringing his eyes to meet her eyes that looked like molten lava.

He twisted them together painfully like melding iron and steel, shoving her harshly up against the wall with a slap of skin on skin.

Draco dipped his fingers between her legs, finding her wet and wanton for him, her eyes like pits of desire.

He thumbed her clitoris with practiced pleasure as she trembled in his arms, swallowing her sigh of lusty desire as she kissed him hard, her lips like fire on ice. Hermione rocked her hips helplessly against him, stabbing her nails recklessly into his shoulders, feeling the ripple of muscle as his kisses coaxed a lusty monster within her loose.

But the kisses weren't enough for her. Hermione was starved of emotion and she was willing to draw every single inch of it out of her.

"I want," she whispered between ragged breaths and clashing, harsh lips. "You," she finished.

Her rapid breaths mimicked his pulse as he withdrew his hand from her pulsing warmth and grabbed her thighs, pulling her higher up his torso, hitching them up and catching her arse with his forearms as her legs snaked around his torso, crossing on his back, aligning them perfectly. But he didn't trust himself to slip between her folds yet. Not just yet. His body was near trembling with the pressure of a taut bow.

Her entire body attempted to rock into him, to engulf his hard length but he forced her hips down. She was completely uninhibited, her nerves and restraints discarded along with their clothes.

And it was fucking _irresistible _to ignore.

The only thing he wanted was to bury himself to the hilt inside of her but he needed to keep a level head.

It was her pain to inflict.

Until she broke the kiss and Draco, with the sudden loss of contact, threw all caution to the wind and slammed into her, his silked rod buried into her engulfing warmth as she threw her head back in a throaty gasp of desperate air as he entered her violently.

"Ah, fuck," he murmured, his pupils dilated as he sucked her neck hazily, biting down hard enough to draw blood to stifle his groan.

He sucked in a shallow breath as she let her wildest instincts ride her, jerking her hips against his with sharp clashes of hip bones meeting.

Hermione tugged at his arms, face, neck, melding them together like iron and steel. Her legs were clamped possessively around him; locking him in her slick warmth that radiated scorching heat, so tight that Draco shuddered.

He bucked unsteadily into her, guided by the brazen movements of her body, inventing a melody of obliging thrusts, resulting sharp slaps of skin and their own mutual moans of approval.

And this melody was fast.

Fast

Furious.

Frantic.

_Feral._

A crescendo of laboured breaths descended on the two of them as Hermione broke the skin of his back with long scrapes of her nails from unrestrained passion.

Raw unprecedented desire.

Her lust-filled mewls of pleasure climbed higher with each passing thrust in almost perfect harmony with their rhythm, pulling him inexplicably closer to the edge, his body tensing and beginning to tremble from the pressure of it all.

But Draco ignored it, suppressing his cresting pleasure.

And soon Hermione's laboured breathing and spasmodic jolts that shot through her legs showed him that she was in very much the same state as he was.

And Draco knew he had done his job the minute he'd felt those twitching ripples that engulfed him almost instantaneously, pulling him desperately closer to her feverish flesh.

Her body went rigid against his as she let her climax rush over her in a heated wave that threatened to pull her under, coursing through her blood, veins, and bones to the very tips of her fingers. He couldn't help but stop to witness her features captivated in rapture; eyes hidden with heavy lids that fluttered with each wave of her orgasm that rushed over her and wild hair that was scattered messily across the wall in a haze of crazed locks that reflected their demeanour.

With trembling arms, he removed an arm from supporting her and reached to gently thumb her sex-bud, milking every static jolt out of her weary bones and allowing her to absorb every second of their madness.

He waited for her to cease her internal flexes that were dragging him in deeper by the second before stealing a few irregular thrusts from erratic jerks of his hips before smothering a groan into her neck as his vision blurred at the edges.

And he gave himself to her with one final violent thrust of his hips slamming against hers.

Draco was vaguely aware of her hands gliding feather-light across his back, a stark contrast to earlier as he attempted to control his haggard breathing.

Once he'd calmed his racing pulse, he lazily pulled himself out of her with a low hiss of breath before letting her down and in a jumble of weakened, tangled limbs, they fell in an ungraceful mess on the floor.

"Bed," Draco heard her murmur into his neck as she gently bit it and he looked at her incredulously.

How on earth was he going to get _all_ the way there?

With shaking legs he stood up, lifting her up with his arms that shook unsteadily and walked shakily to her maroon sheets, collapsing in a bundle of tangled limbs and sweat.

Even Merlin didn't know how he'd summoned the strength to even get there.

His lips ached as Hermione lazily fingered a scar on his shoulder.

"What did you just do?" She whispered.

He shrugged. "You needed to hate me, Princess."

Her eyes flashed to his. "You really need to stop calling me, Princess."

Draco let out a bellow of laughter, his low voice rumbling against Hermione's ear before indulging in a private smirk. "Well do you feel better?"

She lifted her head so that her eyes met his, steadily. "Yes. Oh Gods yes." He'd worked solely on her needs and desires. Something eerily close to selfless. But at that moment, at that moment of complete untimely bliss that would only come once in each millennia, she decided not to bring it up. He would only shut down to become the same old arrogant prick and she didn't dare shatter the odd calm that descended on the two.

It was an almost unbalanced sort of calm.

But at a time like this, any calm was better than what should be expected.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, suddenly.

"Sorry for what?" She questioned.

He opened his mouth to speak before closing it on an afterthought. "I guess…" Draco looked contemplative.

"I guess I must have really rocked your world to leave the great Draco Malfoy speechless," Hermione joked.

He grabbed the pillow from underneath him to throw at her and she batted it away with a yelp of laughter.

"Actually. I'm not sorry," he shot her a leery glance, tracing his hands up her torso to cup her breast and gently thumb her nipple. "Not sorry at _all_."

She leaped off him, her eyes wide with mirth and slipped inside the maroon sheets before settling beside Draco once more to lie in contented silence.

She really did feel far better.

It was as if the weight had been lifted off her heart, the weight that had been unconsciously suffocating it.

"You know, it's my fault," Hermione murmured into his neck.

Draco propped himself up on his elbow to face her and raised an eyebrow.

"It's my fault that they're dead," she elaborated, her eyes downcast.

She really did feel far better. But she couldn't help the trickle of tears that fell from her eyes and left damp patches on her sheets. The first tears she'd shed since that one frozen drop.

Draco gathered her into his body as he let her cry into his chest. "There's nothing wrong with being weak," he murmured into her hair; a fresh fragrance of his Mother's garden. A Garden of Eden.

"I don't hate you, you know."

The shrill ring of the last warning bell before classes started ripped through the air and he reluctantly detached himself from her arms.

Hastily casting a _reparo_ on his damaged shirt and healing charms on his visible scratches and bruises inflicted by her. He haphazardly buttoned up his crumpled white oxford shirt, slipping on the rest of his clothes to leave but not before he gave her one last lingering kiss. "I'll tell the Professors that you won't be coming to class today."

**AN: And that is yet another chapter up! We have a little less than 2 months until the end of the year and according to my new years resolution, I need to finish this story by then! Hopefully that won't be too much trouble. I'm estimating about 4 more chapters.**

**I had a little difficulty writing this chapter, and I'm also having a little difficulty writing the next chapter. I read over it, and vocal sparring is not my strong point. I hope you don't notice it very much xx.**

**Love you all. Please R & R. I'm about 1,000 words into the next chapter but I'm a little behind according to my nanowrimo plan. A few reviews would really get me writing.**


	12. Pride

**DISCLAIMER: JK ROWLING OWNS ALL. That fabulous fabulous woman that let this all be possible. I am merely twisting her characters to do my evil deeds.**

**Chapter 12; Pride**

The weeks past in quick succession as the trees were stripped bare and snow began to fall in crisp hazes of clean, white sheet.

The two rival students of Hogwarts spent their days with heated gazes interrupted by stony silences whenever they attracted public's eye and spent their nights with scorching kisses that burnt their skin.

The frigid, cold barrier that separated the two during the day only made Draco hunger for the nights that brought her closer to him with each passing breath.

He watched her with anguished eyes as she passed him yet again with little or no recognition in her eyes of him standing mere feet away. She passed him in complete unaware as Draco froze from the sweet blossoming fragrance of her familiar hair.

Hermione carefully manoeuvred herself through the throng of bustling students pushing and shoving to get to class, her hands carefully clutching precariously balanced parchment on top of books the weight of herself.

She marvelled at a speck of blemished skin on her wrist where Draco had inadvertently bruised the previous night.

She shook her head in incredulity. It was as if her mind was an unwilling captive and prisoner of her body's needs and desires. And this time, she hardly cared.

Hermione was barely paying attention as she walked haphazardly through the crowd of moving bodies and suddenly, a large solid form came looming, immediately shoving her off her track and into the adjacent wall, the carefully loaded books falling in quick succession onto the floor with heavy thumps, creating a wide berth around her as students avoided the hazardous mess.

Her eyes shot up in shock to find the condescending glare of someone she'd rather not meet.

"Oh my apologies, I didn't see you there," came the drawling voice of Theodore Nott. "I normally don't look for filth on the ground."

She stared determinedly away and attempted to step aside. A large, unmoving body blocked her again and she glared defiantly. "Leave me alone, Nott," she hissed.

"Ah mudblood, but we're just having a little bit of fun. Why don't you bow down to me on the ground where you belong?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the tormenting student she'd prefer not to have a fight with. "Sod off, Nott."

He let out a loud, raucous bellow of laughter, attracting looks from passing students. "The mudblood knows how to talk back," he sneered.

"The _mudblood_ has a name," she hissed in scorn.

Theo raised his eyebrows in dry humour, cracking his neck.

Draco stood against the opposite wall, watching with angry fists clenched, nose flaring as he controlled himself from walking over and giving the bastard what he deserved.

"Actually you're right, Theo!" Hermione cheerfully said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Maybe I will go to where I belong." And she bent down to the floor, picking up her books and balancing them once more in her arms. "And you know what?"

He raised an eyebrow in weary question.

"Maybe you should go where you belong too. The hospital wing." And with that, Hermione brought the large book from the top of her near toppling stack and smacked the unsuspecting Slytherin directly on the nose. She smirked at the satisfying snap signalling a broken bone.

"You whore!" Theodore Nott shouted, gripping his bruised and swelling nose tightly.

Hermione whipped her hair back and attempted to push through the halting crowd, away from the temper of the hot-headed vile snake.

The Slytherin watched with steely eyes her long hair, sweeping to one side, revealing a series of small peppered pink-purple blemishes on the creamy skin of her neck. His eyes raised in surprise. "You really are a whore aren't you, mudblood? Filth from the start, aye?" He shouted over the chorus of chatter in the corridor.

Hermione turned on her heel, spinning rapidly to face him. _What did he say?_

He mocked contemplation. "Hmm … though I _did_ expect more from you. Cheating on your slimy boyfriends already? How long has it been? Can't have been more than 6 months."

The Gryffindor immediately drew out her wand and stalked back to press it tightly against the awful Slytherin's neck. "Don't mess with me, Nott," she hissed.

Draco was frozen in his spot, no longer pretending to walk. His eyes narrowed into slits of burning mercury. He was seething, the wild beast within him roaring as he watched the vile bastard who used to be his friend stalking her like a predator.

"Mess with you? _Never!_" Theo exclaimed in mock horror. "Definitely not how your little whore-buddy _messed_ with you. I bet you're just as filthy in the sheets."

The blonde's little control on his temper snapped and he immediately stalked forwards towards the pair, paving a path through the crowd.

Hermione noticed the formidable height of Draco Malfoy almost instantly, with his molten eyes that seemed to lick with uncovered flames.

"Oh look," Theo relished. "Two in a day! A mudblood and a defected screw-up."

Draco roughly shoved Hermione away, loosening the grip on her wand. "Fuck you, Nott, you bastard. And I'm _not_ talking about you being a prick."

Theo looked at him with eyes that reflected his shock.

"You think I didn't know about your Mother? I know about _everything_. Just because your little coward of a _Father_ claimed you, doesn't make it any less illegitimate. "

The mousy haired Slytherin's eyes drew into slits, his body deadly still. "Don't forget yourself, Malfoy. We all know that you're filth to all of us now and worth absolutely _nothing_. At least my parents didn't abandon me the first chance they got. Absolute scum. Just like your little mudblood friend over there."

Draco's tempered flared as he made to swing aggressively at his fellow peer.

He was stopped by an urgent call. "Malfoy," Hermione demanded with a rough whisper, pulling him away from the dark shadow of rage.

He suddenly remembered himself and his surroundings.

Fuck what was he even doing?

"She's not my friend," he nearly growled to Theodore Nott who merely raised an eyebrow with a condescending look of vile satisfaction.

He noticed people watching with open mouths and shock.

He noticed people watching him and judging him.

Waiting him to fall.

Waiting to see the cracks like fine cracks in fine china.

They were baiting for blood.

Waiting for the moment that he would realise that he was standing beside a Gryffindor muggleborn.

And his pride was damaged enough. Damaged by his peers, damaged by his very own _parents_, damaged by fucking _Granger_ for being so _good _and undeserving of his shattered self.

And he wanted to show her.

Show that he was _damaged._

Show her what a monster he truly was.

And in that moment of complete raw seething anger, he let that dark, shadowy beast whisper in his ear to hurt her. To watch the pain in her eyes. For her to know what he truly was.

A _monster._

Because he could cope with her knowing and leaving him on something that was entirely not his fault rather than on something in which he could have changed.

Because his pride couldn't take it if she left, knowing that it was entirely his fault.

If she'd left not knowing, she'd be judging his character.

But if she'd left knowing, she'd be judging him only on the fact that he had a dark serpent tattooed on his forearm that signified pure evil.

And his already battered pride couldn't handle the former, but it could take the latter.

So he let the monster whisper.

Draco immediately whipped towards her with a cold, frigid sneer. "Fuck off, Granger," he hissed easily with icy venom, eyes flashing dangerously.

She narrowed her eyes at the icy-blonde. "Excuse me?"

"Did the dirt in your blood get into your ear?" Draco scorned with distaste, ignoring her pained eyes focused on his.

He was vaguely aware that he hated himself for it, but the slithering snake never relented.

Show her that good didn't protect her from everything.

It certainly didn't protect her from him.

He was giving her a reason to leave. A reason so that he wouldn't be judged by the one person that mattered.

"Malfoy, keep that idiotic slander up and Death Eaters will accept you once again without a seconds glance."

"And how is that a bad thing?" He smirked with deadly words that pierced her heart.

Hermione shook her head, violently, her eyes immediately hardening. "Some would think you'd learn after all this time."

And without another word, she whipped away from the two Slytherins. It was a quick encounter. But enough to make Hermione seethe with anger at the pair, most intently on the one with rosy lips and blinding platinum hair.

And at that very moment in which he saw her disappear, he felt the black, shadowing monster inside of him curl up and Draco truly began to hate himself.

She stalked away, uncaring as she pushed students off their feet on their way to classes.

Malfoy was a right foul git and she hated him for it.

Hated him for fucking her.

Hated him for being so fucking tempting, enticing and alluring.

Hated him for being such a fucking bastard to her.

Hated herself for letting him.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Draco watched as she found a table in the corner of the library and placed down the stack of books she held onto the desk with a heave.

"Only you'd skip class to go to the library," he murmured low in her ear.

Hermione jumped in shock and swivelled around in her seat. "Leave me alone, Malfoy," she whispered, deadly soft, resuming her readings.

"You have to understand that I didn't mean that," he said in earnest, taking a place beside her. "I panicked and something… Something happened…"

"That's a great apology," Hermione said, coldly.

"It's just I―" He began.

"Save it," she snapped, her tone frigid.

He looked at her with agonised eyes, yearning to reach forward to cup the dipped chin and bring her lips to his.

How was he meant to explain that he'd hated himself for it?

How was he meant to tell her that the wretched words simply slipped of his tongue?

That there was a dark monster within him that would creep in whenever it was baited.

That his fucking pride wouldn't let him have her.

Because who was he? Someone who hated himself and hated her yet completely fucking wanted her and needed to be with her.

Who'd much rather have her leave him knowing that it was purely because of the vile shadowing serpent that haunted his forearm that made him a monster than knowing that she was leaving him because it was his _personality _that made him a monster.

And why was he being so fucking messed up?

Because _she _was the one person who mattered.

And if she left him, on something that Draco could've changed. Changed entirely for her. If she'd left on that, his pride nor his sanity would take it.

She'd never want him. She'd think he was a monster. She _deserved_ someone who would never tell her hateful, spiteful things to protect their own pride.

So he simply whispered a last anguished word. "Please."

Hermione's amber eyes that licked with flames flicked to meet his and for a second, he lost his breath. The ancient lulling pull of her seemed entirely irresistible as he leant into her radiant warmth.

But the charging pull was immediately broken the second she turned her head back to her book without a single indication that she was affected.

She really was far too good for his messed up self.

"Go to class, Malfoy," Hermione said once again, frostily with glaring eyes.

She was angry at him.

Furious?

Well if angry was what she was, Draco Malfoy would make her _angrier._

Make her lose reason.

Make her _see_ reason.

Set the seeds that had already been placed.

Make her see that he was a monster.

"Oh, is it Malfoy now is it? That certainly wasn't the name you were screaming last night," he challenged venomously.

Hermione's eyes flashed viciously. "Fine, _Draco_. You know what? Theodore Nott is right, it _has _been barely 5 months and already, I've forgotten about Harry and Ron. I shouldn't be doing this with you."

His eyes widened in surprise before unconsciously letting out a deep breath he hadn't even known he'd held in absolute, fucking relief. She was being cold because she was questioning their relationship, not the complete and utter fucking slander he'd thrown at her. Not because she'd seen what he truly was.

But he wondered, when that black, shadowing monster emerged once more, would she be as forgiving?

Draco's crippling terror of her realising that he wasn't good enough for her instantly vanished. She was contemplating leaving him. But not because she knew what he was. Because she simply cared about her friends more than she cared about him.

Nobody ever wanted him.

But the thing was, he _wanted _her.

Wanted her within an inch of his life.

Wanted her to stop questioning.

Wanted her to know that he _needed _her.

Because she was the only thing that kept the horrific beast within him at bay.

And the only thing that lulled the horrific beast out of its sleep.

And she was _his._

"What is '_this', _Granger? I'd like to know." He said with maddening control, anger and frustration beginning to seethe out of his pores at the idea of her deciding to just _leave _on her own terms instead of his.

"It doesn't matter!" She exclaimed. "What matters is what I'm doing."

"You're doing me," he said, infuriatingly obstinate and stubborn.

"Shut it, Malfoy," Hermione snapped. "I'm betraying my own friends. My own goddamn friends for―for―"

"For who? Who, Granger? Please, enlighten me. Tell me because I don't know who I am anymore either."

Hermione stared at the young man sitting before her. With dishevelled white-blonde hair that had lost its slick look far long ago. With piercing grey eyes that swirled with intensity. With high cheekbones and proud shoulders.

"Hope, I'm not interrupting something, Granger. But I assumed you'd like to get rid of _Malfoy_," a high, snarky voice interrupted them.

"Fuck off, Smith," Draco bit with vehemence.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him before looking up to find a wheezy dirty blonde Hufflepuff before her. "Why aren't you in class, Zacharias?" She questioned.

The Hufflepuff shrugged. "Hermione, could I speak to you for a second?"

"No, you may not," Draco replied coldly. "And get back to class. We're Heads."

Instead, she rose up from her seat to Draco's astonishment and made to follow the Hufflepuff, leaving Draco seething.

_Bloody Gryffindors. Had to win every-fucking-thing, _he thought in frustration as the idiot looped his disgusting arm around Hermione.

And he nearly growled as she leant into it.

She was _his_.

No matter what she decided.

"What do you want, Smith," she hissed the minute they were away.

"You're little Slytherin snake needs to be tamed," Zacharias remarked.

"He's not _my _little Slytherin snake. And get on with it," Hermione demanded.

The dirty blonde shrugged. "DA is on, but apparently you're not a part of it."

Hermione looked unperturbed. "Tell me something I don't know," she said tiredly, making to turn away.

Zacharias placed a grip on her wrist before she could walk off but she merely shook it off in disgust. "Ah, ah, ah. Not yet," the vile Hufflepuff murmured, an ugly sneer on his face. "Humour me, little Gryffindor. Tell me why you're not part of DA?"

Hermione glared at her counterpart.

"Is it because of Potter and Weasley? Feeling melancholy?" He taunted.

"No. It's because I'd rather be studying for NEWTS rather than watching as DA is tainted horrifically by the likes of you." And because she couldn't bear to step foot in a place that Harry had _created._ Created from thin air to become a safe haven. But she'd much rather know what was coming rather than lie to herself about the War.

"Oh you flatter me, Granger," the distasteful breath of his lingering on her face as he leered at her, towering over her.

"Get off of me, Smith. And stop wasting my time," Hermione snapped, pushing the repulsive Hufflepuff off of her.

"Tell lover boy that," he said, gesturing back to where she had sat earlier, to where Draco was bringing them down with his mere eyes.

"He's not my lover boy," Hermione hissed.

"Of course. That's why he's giving me the glare of death right now."

She rolled her eyes and looked over her shoulder to the snowy blonde, who looked near feral. "I'm leaving," she stated, turning around.

"Wait, Hermione," the loathsome idiot touched her again.

"_What?"_ She demanded, spinning wildly around.

Zacharias dipped his head low. "I'm not sure if McGonagall's told you already but erm…"

"Spit it out, Smith," Hermione said coldly.

"Keep your eyes out. War is coming. My dad said there's no place for muggleborns according to the Ministry."

She shrugged, unsurprised. She knew this was coming.

"I told DA. Colin and Dean are getting ready to leave. You should too."

Hermione nodded, silently. "Thank you, Zacharias and thank you for warning the others in DA."

"So you're not leaving?" He said incredulously.

She turned around, just enough to catch a glimpse of ice blonde hair. "No. Not yet," she murmured before turning and walking slowly back to Draco Malfoy. The young man with shock blonde hair who she knew was definitely not on her side.

He was filth to his side, but she knew that he'd return the minute he could.

After all, nobody could help who their parents were.

She couldn't, and neither could he.

Time was running out.

"What did Smith want?" Draco gritted out the minute she approached hearing distance of him.

Hermione shrugged. "Nothing," she said matter-of-factly.

"That fucking stupid, leering, vile, filthy, sordid bastard," Draco ranted. "He's going to regret the day he fucking touched you―"

"It was nothing, Malfoy!" She interrupted. "Not that you have any claim on me."

Draco felt his jealous run hot again. Just like every time that he spotted her talking to another young man. Another wizard who was what she deserved. Who didn't have to hide. Who wasn't a coward like he was. Who she would one day fall in love with and realise how terrible Draco really was.

"Then tell me what he said," he said, aggravatingly unmoving.

"It's none of your business," Hermione said, sharply in growing frustration. He was so irritatingly infuriating.

"Then make it my business!" He exclaimed, loudly over the silence of the empty library.

Her open mouth snapped shut. "It's none of your business because you already decided that. You decided that whatever we had between us is not to be talked about."

"Had?" Draco questioned. "Had? We still _have_, Granger," he stated firmly.

"Fine!" She agreed furiously. "But that doesn't change anything. You're the one who decided that we didn't need to talk about it."

"Because if we talk about it, you'll realise how completely fucking messed up I am!" He cried out. "You'll realise what I am. A fucking _monster_. A monster with the Dark Lord's brand on him."

"And what makes you think that I didn't already know that?"

Draco's jaw dropped to form a perfect 'o'.

"I'm not completely stupid. And yet, I'm still here, Draco," she said softly. "We can talk if you want to."

Hermione's hand closed around his wrist, pulling him up to stand facing her before she wound her arms around his neck, drawing him closer to meet her lips in a feather light kiss that made Draco's nerve endings burn with fire.

She dragged her lips away reluctantly before anyone could walk by and see.

She quickly gathered her bag and books, tugging on Draco's limp arm to follow her. "Come," she murmured, barely above a breath of air.

Follow her unquestionably up flights of staircases and endless corridors to the very same portrait of a grotesque lady in pink.

And the moment that they set foot in her room, Draco locked her in a tight embrace, his lips crashing violently with hers before kicking the wooden door that lead to their haven closed.

His burning mouth attacked hers; his lips like hot coals on her skin as they fell clumsily in a mess of tangled limbs onto her worn bed.

His fingers tangled in her wild hair, pulling her inexplicably closer to his body as he climbed over her, pressing his feverish skin against hers. He shuddered as her hands explored wildly on his back, down his sides before resting on his hips where his school trousers hung.

Nails digging into the skin above his shoulder blades, Hermione arched her back as his lips abandoned their post on hers and instead wandered down her jaw to suck on the sensitive hollow between her collarbones.

He roughly unbuttoned her shirt, sliding it easily off as if it was the most natural thing in the world for him to do.

His nose instantly buried into the valley between her breasts as he sucked a long, scorching hot path down to her navel as she delved into her animalistic side, her hands sliding up as he went lower to grip his icy-blonde locks of feathery hair, nails stabbing vindictively into his scalp.

Hermione let her eyes flutter shut as Draco's long, pointed nose nudged the already damp patch of fabric that covered her entrance.

She released a low pent up moan that escaped her lips in a heavy sigh.

His fingers nimbly unzipped her skirt, pulling it off with her underwear in one swift stroke, leaving her panting beneath him with her irresistible midnight blue bra.

Draco hastily bowed down his head to bury his tongue into her wet pussy, a finger reaching up to gently thumb her clit as Hermione gasped loudly, bucking her hips of the bed discordantly before they were forced down with his firm grip on her hips.

"Shh…" He murmured in rapt attention as he savoured her sweet, salty and utterly delectable taste, a musky aroma of her arousal lifting into the air to hang heavily around his nostrils so that each time he took a breath he was immediately invaded by her unmissable scent.

"Please," she begged, her breath coming out in short pants as he tortured her relentlessly with slow, leisurely movements.

His tongue swirled against her sex bud, sometimes dipping down lower to taste her sweet essence before returning to her clit, licking and sucking with practiced pressure that made her tremble.

"Draco, more," she keened in a heavy whisper.

He pulled himself away as Hermione attempted to draw him back in with grasping hands.

He rose onto his knees as his long aristocratic fingers undid the clasp of her bra to be abandoned on the floor with the rest of her clothes.

"Fuck me," he murmured, distraughtly so as his breath was stolen by her absolute beauty.

Her pearly white skin shone as long, dark, luscious curls spilt down her sharp collarbones and in a fan across the pillow she was laying on. Her eyes were dilated and looking at him with such an intensity that nearly brought him melting right into her.

She was far too good for him.

With light pressure, Draco lowered himself and grinded his hips against her, creating delicious friction between his hard, restrained length and her aroused clit.

He reached down and rubbed her sex-bud agonisingly slow, pressing closed mouth kisses, no matter how much she tried to drive her tongue through those closed lips.

She deserved every inch of pleasure she got.

But she didn't deserve it from him.

He was so goddamn_ poised. _How could he even have such restraint when all she wanted to do was to strip him bare and have him thrust into her so hard until their arousal and sweat mixed?

She tried in vain to shatter that perfectly built composure, nipping down his neck to the base of her throat.

He suppressed a groan that would've sung long and low.

"Draco, for God's sake," Hermione cried, bucking her ridiculously reactive hips into his fingers.

Draco's body was practically shaking as he looked at her with desperate orbs.

Fuck, she was so completely breathtaking and so utterly undeserving of his fucked up self.

His eyes focused against hers and she saw the dark pits of his pupil, dilated from arousal. All she needed to do was break through that and let his already building arousal take control.

She let her hand drift down from his shoulder blade, down his side to follow the path of his prominent hip-bones before finding the prominent tented portion of his trousers, rubbing it voraciously as she felt his short gasps of air coming out in quick bursts on her neck.

Draco's heart pounded from her brazen movement, a choked groan escaping his sealed lips.

"Wait, Hermione―" His words coming out in a shuddering breath as she easily unbuckled his belt, swiftly pulling them down his hips along with his boxers releasing his unrestrained, hard, length.

He instantly recoiled from her to the foot of the bed, his trousers sliding too his ankles in which he impatiently kicked them off.

Hermione smiled in satisfaction at his dishevelled state, his tousled hair falling in front of his eyes as he shook with nervous anticipation. His eyes were begging her to stop and continue at the same time.

At this point, she had absolutely no idea how to proceed. She timidly crawled forwards until she was before him and reached a hesitant hand out to stroke his silken cock. It was oddly hard yet undeniably supple and she marvelled the absolute warmth.

Draco nearly collapsed at her feather light touches and sucked in deep desperate gasps. His hand gripped the bed posts tightly, his knuckles turning whiter than his already pale skin.

Hermione felt oddly embarrassed, a faint blush creeping on her cheeks as she wrapped her hand around his length tightly.

His eyes were shut with his long golden glittered lashes occasionally fluttering.

And at that moment of complete bliss, he decided to forget everything. Forget the fact that he didn't deserve her, forget the fact that she was far too good for him, forget the fact that he was _tainting _her.

And to just absorb every second in which she was his.

Hermione looked up in question at his determinedly closed lids. She obviously wasn't going to receive any guidance from him at the current time and right now, she needed some. It was something so completely foreign to her and Hermione was awkwardly pumping her enclosed hand up and down hoping that it felt alright.

"Am I doing this right?" She asked quietly, blushing.

Draco let out a cough of laughter, his eyes flicking open to reveal low, lusty iris's of molten mercury.

He nudges his hips forward into her hand and it felt near heavenly.

"Granger, nothing has to be perfect," he chastised her, pushing away all negative thoughts to bathe at her attentions.

Hermione pouted and clenched her hand tightly before roughly sliding her hand up and down his shaft.

Draco's hips involuntarily jerked off the bed wildly and he couldn't help the hoarse groan that tumbled past his lips.

She quickly took advantage of his shut lids as she shifted on her knees before quickly lowering her head to ever so faintly lick the tip of his length.

He was dimly aware of a certain warmth present at the tip of his cock but pushed it aside, moving about his hips, eager for more friction. Little did he know that the minute he moved, Hermione's parted lips slipped further down his length, enveloping him, her hands at the base of his shaft holding it in place.

His hand immediately reached out to tangle in her wild mess of dark hair, holding her firmly in place as his eyes flew open, looking down in complete shock with panting, hoarse breaths.

Fuck she was doing this.

Fuck, he had illusions before but she was really doing this.

Hermione cautiously sucked causing Draco's eyes to roll to the back of his head, his hand firm in her hair, pulling her away and towards at the same time.

She sucked. _Hard._

And he had to restrain a loud yelp as his hips jerked up, _yet a-fucking-gain_.

His control was splitting apart at the seams and all he wanted to do was come hard and recklessly.

Her head began to move, aided by a few gentle thrusts of his hips as he felt his near bursting length slide out and in of the warm cavern of her mouth.

"Hermione," he croaked in a gravelly murmur and he felt her speeding up.

Holy Salazar. She was doing this. She was doing this _to him_. And he had never felt more aroused ever in the fucking world. Well, it wasn't saying much as he was nearly at the point of coming.

"_Fuck_," he hissed, roughly, very much aware of tension that was building up in his lower abdomen to the point in which he couldn't ignore any further. He was going to come. And in her fucking mouth.

No. He couldn't. She certainly wasn't ready to taste his come. He knew it wasn't much of a pleasant experience.

But oh, Salazar save him.

He groaned in a melody that sung loud and low. "Granger," he managed to choke out. "Stop."

She began moving faster.

"_Granger_, stop" he demanded.

Hermione sucked _hard _once again, her tongue swirling at his tip before resuming it's original pace.

"Fucking hell, _Granger_," he hissed. "I'm going to come. You better fucking stop _now."_

She unsheathed her teeth, just enough to gently graze along his length, but that was all it took.

"Oh, _fuck!" _He shouted as he felt black dots creeping at the corners of his vision, his eyes planted widely at the join between his cock and her mouth, spasmodic jolts sending shockwaves through his body as he felt his orgasm rip through him.

She felt his hips jerked sharply and violently into her mouth as she felt hot liquid pour into her mouth in spurts.

She would've smiled in satisfaction if she could.

His breath came in laboured pants as he gingerly raised his hips off the bed to smoothly slide his member out from between her rosy lips that were clamped shut.

Draco watched in her in absolute awe and amazement at her flushed cheeks and mused hair from his hands that had tangled wildly in her dark locks.

"Fuck me, Granger," he said, hoarse from his previous escalated voice. "Oh and you don't need to―"

He watched stricken as she gulped, taking down his come before her lips quirked into a knowing smirk.

"Swallow…" He breathed.

"Granger, I hope you learnt that all in a book because I will not have you doing _that _to anyone else _ever_."

Hermione blushed. "I actually didn't know very much about what I was doing…" She trailed off.

His eyes widened incredulously.

"I mean I've never ever―" She began but was cut off with a pair of clashing lips that sought hers madly.

_She definitely deserved a fucking reward,_ Draco thought to himself as he forced himself upon her roughly, compelling her to lean back and to fall on her back with him on top her, his tongue worshipping her like she was a God. _His _God.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Hermione lay across the bed with panting breaths as Draco emerged from underneath the sheets from between her legs, rising and propping himself up on his elbows, his hot breath tickling her neck.

"I'm sorry, Draco," she murmured, the staccato of her heartbeat decreasing.

He cocked an eyebrow, grinning. "For what?"

He shrugged, hoping that she'd forgotten what he said to her and instead attempting to distract her. He pointed to a faint jagged scar that ran from her neck to her shoulder. "Where'd you get that from?"

Hermione looked down and smiled. "Third year. Whomping willow caught it."

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "How come?"

She shot him a mysterious smirk. "Not for you to know."

Draco rolled his eyes. "You and your secrets."

"Boys and their toys," she shot back easily.

He chuckled deep in his chest. "How is that true?" He argued.

"The way you treat your broomstick better than me is proof enough."

He choked on a cough as he felt the corners of his lips lift and laughter spill out between his lips. "For the record, I can fly very well," he defended.

"Right. You keep on believing that," she teased.

"My Mother said I was very good," he said, laughing.

"She's your Mother. Of course she'd say that," Hermione joked.

He shrugged. "Fair point, Granger. My Father never really said anything other than criticisms."

She furrowed her brows. "Malfoy, don't fret over it."

Draco shook his head roughly as if fending off the thoughts. "Of course," he said distantly.

She traced a pattern on his porcelain skin. "If it makes you feel any better, my Dad nearly attacked me the first time he saw me use magic."

He looked at her. "Nearly is the key word there. My Father forced me to do some magic when I was only 5. I was at the Hospital for 3 months while they treated my injuries."

She widened her eyes. "Did it work?"

He nodded. "Of course it did. I'm brilliant. Did I mention that?"

Hermione laughed self-consciously, the same distant look on his face. "Lavender Brown threw a knife at me after accusing that I had slept with her boyfriend."

"I always knew you were feisty," he noted, a sad smile on his lips.

He faced her amber eyes and sucked in a pained breath. He needed to ask. Just ask. To see if she really meant what she'd said earlier. "Look, Granger. You said you knew what I was right?"

Hermione lifted her head from her last ministrations on his chest to face his steady gaze at the sudden change of topic. "Yes…" she said cautiously. "I understand if you don't want to―"

"No. I want to show you who I truly am." His hand reached across her naked form to the wand that lay abandoned on her bedside table. With a skilled hand, he pointed it to his wrist, muttering a low spell that she couldn't catch and instantaneously, black swirls began to slowly visualise, until the all consuming mark of a dark wizard was completely revealed.

A ring of red surrounded it along with criss-crosses of unhealed skin and Hermione looked at it with amazement and intrigue.

"I―I―" She stuttered.

"Don't, Granger. I understand. I'm a fucking monster," he murmured sadly.

"You're not a―"

"Don't try to deny it. I can't be contained. I destroy everything I touch. I'm going to destroy _you_. I've already tried, remember?" He hissed harshly.

"No, Draco. You'd never. You're not a―"

"YES I AM!" He shouted. "I am, I am, I am. I'm a fucking monster. And you shouldn't be with me. And I _tried _to show you what a monster I was. I _tried_. But I hated myself. But I still wanted to show you. I wanted to _hurt _you, Hermione. I wanted for you to see what I was and I wanted you to _leave._ Yet I don't want you to leave. Yet I get fucking jealous of you and Zacharias or _any _other male. I want you to fucking leave and I want you to stay. I showed you because―"

"You showed me because you were scared that I'd leave you because of who you actually are. Your mark was a reason for me to leave that didn't hurt your pride. I _know_."

He sucked in a desperate breath at her honest words. "You have to understand that I am fucking damaged beyond repair. And this mark is only part of it. You have to understand that I am a goddamn _bastard _inside. That sometimes I will be selfish. That sometimes I will be _cruel_."

"So?" She exclaimed loudly and Draco recoiled in reaction. "I already _know_ all of this. Do you think that I've just forgotten those 6 years? That I just magically thought you'd changed? No. I already _knew _all of this. I knew that you'd always protect your goddamn pride, no matter what the cost. I knew that you were a bastard. Mudblood you called me, remember? I knew you were selfish and I knew you were cruel. So don't question why I'm here."

"But why _are _you here?" He queried.

"I _don't _know!" She shouted. "I don't _know_. And I don't _care_. All I know is that you're worth it. You're cold, heartless, selfish, infuriating and a goddamn _Death Eater_. Yet, it's all worth it to see the smile that graces your lips and for the smile that graces _my _lips whenever I see you."

"I'm sorry," he apologised, looking spitefully at the Dark Mark, wishing for it to disappear.

"Even if it disappeared, it wouldn't change who you are," she murmured.

"I'm a coward. Running away from the Dark Lord," he hissed in complete destruction.

She sighed, her hand tracing the sharp curve of his jaw. "Remember at the beginning of the year, when I'd called you a coward?" Hermione began.

He nodded vaguely for appearance's sake but inside he remembered it like it was yesterday.

"I couldn't have been more wrong," she murmured. "It takes great courage to take action. Whether it be offensive or defensive. I couldn't have run away if I were you."

Draco shrugged. "I had help."

She smiled sadly. "I hope you have help later."

And at that instant, the both of them realised, that time was rapidly running out.

And one of them would eventually have to leave the other.

It was just a matter of who left first.

Draco sighed into his palms. Now it'd only hurt more if she left first. Something which might destroy his pride and what little grip on his sanity in which he had left.

Instead of counting down the ticking seconds, Hermione planted a soothing kiss on his lips that he'd grown so accustomed too and the two of them let themselves forget who they were and the counting down of time that they would never get back.

**AN. Okay, so I'm not sure if it's just me, but I want to _rip _my hair out. Like oh my god, while I was writing this I was actually just clawing at my face. But they needed this 'talk' and a proper realisation that Draco _was _technically still evil despite everything.**

**Now if you didn't quite understand this chapter, because I absolutely _hate _it. I actually literally _hate it_. This is my worst chapter yet and so goddamn disconnected but I simply cannot fix it without completely rewriting. Anyway, if you didn't understand this chapter, I basically wanted to show Draco's conflicting emotions mainly based on pride. At the beginning, his emotions are so out of balance, his thoughts become tangled and vague and even while writing, I had no idea what he was talking about. But as he was trying to explain to Hermione, it was as if she'd given him clarity on who he was, a monster and he was actually _articulate_.**

**So if you hate this chapter, just tell me because I hate it too.**

**Tick tock tick tock. Time is running out.**


	13. Time

**DISCLAIMER: JK ROWLING OWNS THE ENTIRETY OF THE HARRY POTTER SERIES AND I AM SIMPLY USING HER IDEAS TO MAKE A PATHETIC PLOTLINE. **

**Chapter 13; Time**

"Come on, sweetheart," he coaxed, thrusting in with practiced pressure into her, guaranteed to make her moan, and boy, was she moaning.

Her heart thudded wildly as she bucked uncontrollably at his invading hips.

"Sweetheart, you can do it," he murmured against her neck as he fought his building orgasm madly, pushing it aside. Salazar be damned if he couldn't make her come for him.

"Draco, I―" She gasped, trying to tell him that it might not happen any time soon tonight. On some evenings, he'd spend the better part of the night trying to make her orgasm which wasn't always easy for girls as she'd found out.

But he was unresistingly relentless, pushing aside his own desire for hers.

Her words were smothered with a charming kiss that burnt her already bruised lips.

They were both covered in a light sheen of sweat with matted hair and grasping hands.

His entire body shook violently as he fought to keep his own orgasm at bay.

Draco reached between her legs to frantically thumb her swollen sex-bud, cajoling a low sounding moan from her hoarse throat.

"Come for me, Hermione," he murmured sweetly against her panting lips as her eyes rolled to the back of her head, the very same orgasm evading her.

"Look, Draco, you don't have to―"

She was interrupted yet again by his lips.

"You're so infuriating," she protested, weakly from his perfectly positioned thrusts and ministrations, her eyes rolling to the back of her head once more.

He coughed a laugh through between clenched jaws and she retaliated by squeezing her inner muscles around his already straining length.

His entire body shook as he felt his orgasm begin to peak and crest. "Fuck, Granger," he hissed disjointedly as he slammed deep inside of her with an ill-tempoed thrust.

She let out a long disconnected moan that tore through his body, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck, squeezing hard and he knew she was about to come. But the wild jerking of his hips took its own toll on him too as his arms trembled with the sheer effort of holding himself up.

Draco felt the tension in his lower abdomen building as he opened his lust-ridden eyes to search hers, similarly dark.

"Come on, my sweet," he groaned. "Just. A. Little. More…"He urged between ragged breaths and hard biting lips.

Her body was as taut as a drawn bowstring as her nails clawed at his back, keening before one final, heavy thrust brought her entire body releasing with spasmodic jolts, letting her moan sing long and low, her body releasing the tension that had spilt over the edge to run in a tidal wave to the tips of her fingers and the curl of her toes.

Draco's entire body shuddered as he felt the sporadic internal muscles clench and unclench around his member, drawing out his orgasm out from behind his carefully cultivated wall and he let it. He let it rip through every fibre of his being as his body tensed in response and black spots invaded the fringes of his vision.

He collapsed ungracefully the minute every second of his rapture had been drawn out and carefully, with worn limbs, rolled of her to lay beside her, his weary arms circling around her waist and pulling her close as they listened to the rapid rise and fall of one another's chest begin to slow.

"God, you're stubborn," she murmured hazily into his neck, breathing in deeply the combined fragrance of him and his sweat mixing together.

He buried his nose into her wild locks of dark hair and whispered, "Don't act like you don't like it."

Hermione scoffed before relenting to a tired kiss of battered lips.

"Besides, I want to know that every time in which we've fucked, you've come for _me_. And so what if I want to make the most of the sex we have? It may be the last time I ever get to see your rosy cheeks again."

She sighed and gave him a warning look. They'd promised not to mention it but the both of them knew that the clock was ticking down.

War was coming.

And one of them had to leave the other at some point.

Whether it be freely or against their will.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Draco woke up drearily from the sleep in which he hated. A sleep in which he'd once cherished.

But now, it was something that only took away the very little time in which he had with her.

_Her._

Her long silken locks draped across his shoulder like a veil and shone auburn in the white winter sunlight as Draco lazily traced the curve of her hip, rewarding him with an indulgent sigh from her lips.

He hated time.

Time was precious.

Time was vicious.

And time could never be bought back.

His arms circled around her waist tighter, pulling her firmly into his torso, rustling Hermione from her sleep.

"Draco," she breathed in contentment against his skin, coaxing goosebumps to emerge on his forearms.

"Morning, Princess," he murmured, relishing the smooth, warmth of her bare skin against his. Something in which could be torn from him without a seconds notice.

He'd spend every second of last night memorising every aspect of her. Every expression that graced her features, every curve of her bone, every sensation that passed through him as she moved, every single fucking thing. But it didn't seem like enough.

Hermione turned her body to face his and place a gentle peck on his quirked lips as he pulled her even closer, pressing every inch of their skin together, breathing in her scent of his Mother's garden.

The smallest consolation was that he knew he could always go back to the Manor and simply smell the flowers of the garden to remember her. That little consolation was wiped from his mind when he realised he wouldn't be returning to the Manor any time now nor any time in the future.

Her hand found his and she looked up at his eyes embarrassed before his arm wound around her torso and brought her lips to his, their intertwined hands holding tightly onto one another as their lips met one another's reverently.

The silence stretched painfully, both too scared to break it. Too scared to shatter the perfectly built calm. Too scared to move. Too scared to speak. To scared because it was as if they were balancing precariously on thin ice. That one abrupt movement could shatter the thin ice in which they were upon and send them falling into an unknown abyss.

And both were too scared to leave. Despite the fact that they both had to.

Hermione, to escape the falling Ministry's grasping hands and to fight alongside Harry. And Draco, to hide and hope that either Voldemort would fall or forgive because _nobody_ had ever escaped the Dark Lord's clutch. At this point in time, Draco might as well just be an insignificant fly, but when War came, anyone who could even _change_ even the smallest outcome of the War, must be disposed of.

It was just a matter of time to see which one of them would have to leave Hogwarts first.

And whether the other would let them.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Hermione's body was intricately intertwined was Draco as she read through yet another book after finishing the other, biting her nails.

"Granger," he murmured wearily, nose nudging the curve of her shoulder as he sat behind her, legs curled into one another's.

She lifted her head up to find his stormy eyes in all their enthralling beauty. "Yes?" She grinned.

"Can we do something?" He asked sleepily.

She pressed a kiss to the angular bone of his jaw. "You can read with me."

He shook his head. "Funny, Granger. Why would I want to read about some lovesick fool?"

"I knew it! You _have_ been reading over my shoulder," she exclaimed.

"I―What? No―I―I just read the summary at―at―," he stuttered, protesting.

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Just a little," he admitted. "But it _is_ quite boring just watching you read, not that you're not fascinating of course, Princess. But I'd _much_ rather be doing something else," he smiled winningly as a hand trailed tantalizingly down her spine causing Hermione to arch her back sharply into him in response. Draco grinned once more at her reaction.

"How do you even want to? It's barely been half an hour!" She said in surprise.

"Sweetheart, I only need 10 minutes," he winked.

She rolled her eyes. "You're disgusting," she groaned just before he leant down, twisting her torso and captured her lips in his once more.

She sighed into the scorching kiss as his tongue invaded her mouth.

"Draco," she managed to pant out between furious, clashing lips.

He pulled away, lips moving down the curve of her neck to suck at the base of her neck, teasing the rings of her spine. "What?" He murmured into her slightly tangy skin.

"Later," she sighed drowsily at his lavish kisses.

Draco stopped and lifted his head up again to rest on her shoulder. He looked to the side and nudged his nose into her jaw before sucking hard on the junction of her shoulder and her neck.

"Later," she said more insistently.

Draco growled as she pulled away, trying to draw her back in. "Fine," he groaned in defeat, hands circling around her torso and dragging her back into his chest. "But you better find something better to do. You're quite a hard act to follow up on."

She laughed. "Fine, I'll get another book," she said, lifting herself up away from him before Draco's hands clamped tighter around her waist, pulling her back down.

"Don't you dare leave, Granger," he hissed. "We'll read this book. But it's beyond me why they're already in love when they've only known each other for one night."

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

"Wait, let me get this straight," Draco said incredulously. "That lady wants to _kill_ herself just because she can't have her fucking Romeo? She's 14 for Merlin's sake!"

"She loves him and she can't bear to be without him," Hermione said defensively.

"She's idiotic."

"Stop insulting the book, Malfoy and just keep reading," she said, flipping the page defiantly.

"Muggles just live to torture themselves," Draco muttered.

His head rested comfortably on her shoulder as they read on, Hermione needing to translate some Shakespearian phrases to him in which he didn't understand.

Their even breathing halted as they rounded the last few pages.

"Did he just―" Draco began.

"Yes," she answered, morosely.

"Fucking Shakespeare. So I just read all of that just for them to die?" He groaned.

"They're star-crossed lovers! They're destined to die to unite the two rivalling families. Remember the prologue?"

"Yeah yeah yeah, foreshadowing shit. But who gives a fuck whether or not the families unite in the first place?"

Hermione shrugged, leaning back leisurely into Draco's strong chest.

"Bloody muggles," he muttered as Hermione turned the last few pages.

Silence descended upon the two as they read the last few pages in rapture.

"I had expected this to be satisfying _at the least_, but they just _died_. How does this―" Draco paused what would've been a long overdue rant about the play as he noticed her turn around, dropping the book to the side of the bed and burying her head into the crook of his shoulder. "Granger?" He questioned, uneasily.

She lifted her head to meet his surprised gaze. "Sorry, Malfoy. I've just read this so many times ever since second year and I just always seem to understand more and more of it each time I read it. It's just so tragic and _fated_."

He drew her closer to his body.

"I'd just hate to be fated to fall in love and then realise that you _can't_ fall in love because of goddamn prejudices and rivalry."

Draco's eyes searched hers in wonder. "Just like the fact that I can't be together with you because of stupid fucking ideals," he murmured.

She let the edges of her lips creep upwards until she was smiling. "I suppose so," she laughed. "Except for the fact that you aren't in love with me, mister," she joked before rolling off of him to sink into the cool side of the bed relishing the fresh feel of the cool sheets before Draco followed, body fitting into hers as he wrapped his arms around her once more.

Yes, except for the fact that he _didn't _love her…

He only wanted every inch of her to be his.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

"I need to study," she murmured, attempting to pull away from his iron clad grasp.

She looked out the arched window of her room and saw the sun already dancing across the horizon. The sun was waning, signally the end of another day. A day they'd spent sharing lazy stories and desperate last kisses in which they'd convinced themselves would the last. A day they would never get back.

Draco groaned, his nose nudging her neck. "Why are you studying for NEWTS when chances are, we won't even have enough time to take them?"

"We might come back," she argued.

"Or we might die," he hissed with burning reality.

"Why are you being so cynical. It's not becoming," Hermione retorted, untangling herself from him and sitting upright.

"It's who I am, Princess," he murmured malevolently.

"Draco…" she warned.

"There's no denying it, Granger. There's the every chance that I will never see you again after this War."

She wrapped her arms tightly around her. "We can't be sure," she said desperately. Trying more to make herself believe it rather than to make him believe.

"Quit hoping, Granger. It's not going to get you anywhere," his harsh words making her fume in frustration as he followed her suit and sat up, leaning lazily on the headboard.

"I'm not―" She began.

"Really? You're not hoping? Because it seems pretty fucking saint-like to me. And we all know _you_ aren't a saint, Princess."

"Screw you, Malfoy," she hissed.

His lips quirked into a smirk. "Are you going to put me in my place, Granger?" His eyebrows rose as a lascivious grin graced his lips.

"You're sick," Hermione bit.

"Or are you going to send me to the Dark Lord?" He said; his tone blunt. "We're all going to die anyway."

"One side will win," she said defiantly.

"Sure," Draco shrugged. "_Sure, _one side _will_ win. But who's really winning? We'll both have great losses. Losses on _both_ sides. Losses so great that victory pales in comparison. And what's the point? When will the War truly end? Even if one side wins this time, that doesn't mean there aren't any followers of each side left. There will _always_ be conflicting values, conflicting beliefs, conflicting ideals to what a proper Wizarding world should be. And these conflicting thoughts, will brew, simmer and seethe, until one reaches boiling point and we'll have another War at our hands. The War will never truly end."

"What are you trying to tell me, Malfoy?" She murmured in resignation. "Not to fight? You can't make me do that."

"To not fight is the rational idea! An idea that any sane man will chose!" He exclaimed. "I thought you were rational, Hermione Granger."

"It doesn't always come down to being rational, Malfoy. _I'm_ not always rational. _You_, weren't the rational choice but I still chose _you_." His lips opened to protest. "Don't you dare try make me stop. You may have a choice in whether or not to fight in this War, but I don't. I'm a _mudblood_, remember? If my side loses, then that's the exact same thing as dying. If we lose, then I _will_ die. I'm a mudblood, Malfoy. I have no choice."

Draco sat up straight his hands raking through his ice blonde hair in aggravation. "You _do_ have a choice, Granger! Let Potter and them fight!"

Her eyes flickered angrily, like amber flames, casting shadows in her irises. "Don't you get it?" She cried out in frustration. "How can I when if I _do_, I could save lives? How can when if I _do_, I'll be fighting for what is _right_. How can I stand on the sidelines and just _watch_ as people sacrifice their _lives_ for people like me. It's _not_ who I am!"

"I sometimes wish you weren't who you are," he groaned tiredly.

She narrowed her eyes. "I'm fighting in the War, Malfoy. Don't try and stop me."

"But you could die, Granger," he murmured in anguish.

She paused. "Do you want me to die, Malfoy?"

His jaw tightened as he stared at her with eyes of distress of torment. Did he want her to die? To see the rosy blush and crimson of her lips disappear and have death's pale flag advance upon her body?

"Never," he choked out.

A heavy, tense silence fell between the two. A silence filled with unanswered questions and desires. A silence acknowledging the fact that despite everything, despite the pain, despite the fact that they should not, _could_ not be together, they still held on, refusing to let go despite the obvious danger for both.

"Why are we even arguing?" Hermione murmured, tersely.

"I don't know. Something about your fucking NEWTS," he quipped, representing normalcy.

She shrugged. "I'd like to pretend that things are still normal."

Draco moved across the bed to where she sat, drawing her into his arms. "Are we normal?" He murmured into the long locks of her hair that feathered across the slope of his nose.

"As normal as things can be during War," she responded, leaning into his familiar heat. "I don't want to fight."

"Me neither," he murmured back before pressing a hard lipped kiss against her temple before searching out her lips once more.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Hermione walked on her way back to the Gryffindor common room from dinner in the Great Hall, hurrying up the stairs she nearly tripped over disappearing step as she rushed back to her room where Draco would be waiting, flying in through her open arched window.

If he was waiting there at all.

She ran to once more be in the strong, firm arms, of course. But she also ran just to make sure, just to see, to see if he was still there. To see if he'd left during the small time in which they'd been apart.

It was inevitable.

For one of them to leave.

Time seemed to be ticking down without hesitation and each second that passed was one second less of the time in which she would have with him.

It was almost ironic in a way.

How at the beginning of the year she'd hated every waking moment of her time at Hogwarts and now each second was a blessing.

Her legs carried her to the portrait of the Fat Lady but just as she was whispering the password a loud booming call carried across the corridor to her.

"HERMIONE!" The voice shouted.

She spun on her heel to find a fiery mess of red hair sprinting towards her. "Gin―" Her voice caught in her throat, seeing the absolute terror in the Weasley's eyes. _Oh no_, she thought immediately before running down the hallway to meet her.

"Hermione. Hermione. Hermione. You need to leave. Umbridge is on her way, _now_. You need to leave now. Dean, Colin and Dennis are gone. You need to go. She's going to file a legislation at Hogwarts on the collection of muggleborns. The Ministry. Something's happened at the Ministry. Voldemort. I think Voldemort. It doesn't matter. Something's happened. Umbridge has the Ministry behind her. Once she comes, you won't be able to leave." The words tumbled out in a slur and Hermione barely registered each syllable.

"What," she said sluggishly.

"HERMIONE. LEAVE. NOW. YOU DON'T HAVE ANY MORE TIME!" Ginny shouted.

The words finally clicked in her head. "Thank you," she rushed one last hurried goodbye, retracing her steps back, sprinting down the corridor.

"WHERE ARE YOU GOING?" A now distant voice yelled. "THE ROOM OF REQUIREMENT EXIT IS THE OTHER WAY."

"I need to get something first!" She replied over her shoulder, lungs burning.

"You don't have time, Hermione," Ginny murmured softly, barely audible. Godric save her.

Her feet moved rapidly down the hallway before reaching the portrait of the Fat Lady once more.

She murmured the password between panting breaths and instantly rocketed through the room to the spiral staircase that led to her dormitory room.

She needed to do one more thing.

She couldn't leave without.

Without goodbye.

But she was entirely aware of the rapidly ticking down time. To leave before she'd be caught.

Caught to be entirely at the Ministry's mercy.

Caught to be killed?

Caught to be imprisoned?

It didn't matter because if she was caught, she wouldn't be able to fight in the War.

And being able to fight right alongside Harry was the only thing that mattered at the time being.

She burst through the doors dramatically, half expecting an empty room but almost by a miracle, he was sitting there. Sitting _right_ there. Lying oh so casually on her bed, foot tapping against the rich maple mahogany bed frame.

"Hey, Granger I was just―" He noticed her flushed cheeks and anxious gleam in her eye. "What―"

"It's time," she interrupted, hurrying towards him, feet tripping over scattered books on the floor.

"What?" He said, dumbfounded.

She placed a searing kiss on his scorching lips, digging deep, her tongue sliding roughly between his parted lips. "I need to leave. Umbridge is coming. Something's happened to the Ministry. I think it's fallen. Muggleborns being collected by the Ministry. I need to leave now before she comes otherwise I won't be able to leave at all."

The clogs in his brain began turning and he came to sudden realisation. "No no _no_. _NO!_ No you can't. Not yet. It can't be time already. You can't leave me, Hermione. _Please_."

"I have to! I can't stay. I need to fight with Harry and Ron."

The words caught in his throat. "Why are you here?"

Hermione's eyes flashed in rushed frustration. "What? At Hogwarts? I told you. Harry sent me here to be safe."

"No," Draco interrupted. "I meant, why are you here right now? With me? Aren't you meant to be leaving?"

"I don't know." She placed another desperate kiss on his lips, her hands grappling at the strands of his hair as he submitted. "I need to go," Hermione murmured into his jaw.

He nodded grimly. "I know." But his arms wrapped tightly around her torso.

Draco shook his head roughly. What was he doing? Holding her hostage in his arms when she needed to _leave immediately_.

His body shook slightly as he pushed her determinedly away. "You need to leave now."

Hermione looked up in surprise, wanting to curl up back into him before realising the situation.

She picked her shaking limbs off him, her eyes beginning to glimmer with unshed tears.

But just as she began to turn away Draco grappled with the frayed edges, forcing her to remain for one last second. "Wait, Granger. How are you leaving?"

She threw herself back into him, knocking his head onto the headboard. "I'm going to the Room of―" She placed a hasty kiss. "Requirement."

Draco nodded with a sharp sigh. He couldn't hold her up any longer. He took one last inhalation of her intoxicating fragrance before pressing one last frantic kiss on her lips. "Go," he said firmly.

"Draco…" she hesitated.

"No, _go_," he said, resolutely with finality, his voice catching in his throat.

And she looked at him with amber eyes that seemed to glow with flames before leaving with a swish of coffee brown curls.

Leaving nothing but the trailing scent of her enthralling perfume.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

His hands began shaking the moment in which he felt the cool, fresh air settle in the place where she had been.

And he most _certainly_ could not blame the alcohol withdrawal symptoms this time. Those had faded near a month ago. But these tremors, the tremors that wracked throughout his body were something entirely different.

His nostrils burnt, his throat was parched, his eyes stung.

And already he longed for her warmth.

Before he could even comprehend what had just happened, a raven black owl with preened feathers slipped through the open arched windows of her room in which he'd flown through earlier.

Draco numbly detached the scroll of parchment from the owl's legs before it flew off once again.

He hazily unrolled the scrap of parchment

_Draco,_

_The time has come. Meet me in my office._

_You know who this is._

His eyes glazed over in complete unrecognition before he shook his head roughly, clearing his clouded thoughts as the words began clicking in realisation.

He shakily stood up on his trembling legs.

Urgency replaced the dark chasm that had engulfed him as he hastily grabbed his wand.

He needed to leave. He needed to live.

He needed to live to find her later.

His hand found the smooth hilt of his Firebolt and before he could register his movements, he was coursing through the harsh winds of early winter.

And he relished it. Relished the biting cold that seared through his uncovered skin. The scorching pain of frozen snow. The all encompassing heat of ice.

Because physical pain distracted him from the mental pain.

He stumbled through the door of the Headmaster's office before he could even notice that his teeth were no longer chattering from his panting breath.

"Draco," the Headmaster was already waiting for him.

The blonde took a long gulp of air to compose himself; calming down his racing heart, erasing all traces of emotion from his features. "Yes, Professor?" He murmured at last.

"The time has come. The Ministry has been infiltrated and it is time to leave before the Dark Lord comes looking properly," Severus Snape said in an anxiously low tone, murmuring fast in urgency. The unspoken words to the end of his sentence lay between them. Looking _for you_.

For him. For Draco. For the traitor.

Draco nodded, unsurprised. He was prepared for this. Yet oddly, unprepared. His body felt unnaturally numb and unaware of the sensation of touch yet each and every pore of his skin seemed to be intensely sensitive to each sensation. The rough thread of his trousers, the tight, constricting loop of his tie, the scraping fabric of his oxford shirt. It was as if all his senses were numb whilst being set on fire.

"Yes, Severus," he nodded, calmly. "When do we leave?"

The greasy haired professor raised his eyebrow uneasily. "Now. Lead the way," he gestured towards the door.

Draco nodded once again, hands reaching into his robe for his wand to comfort himself. "Okay," he agreed hollowly, yet instead of following the Professor's instructions, he merely stood in place.

Snape immediately noticed the haunted look in the boy's quicksilver eyes and shook his head morosely.

The exact look he'd found in his very own eyes years ago. Years that had yet to erase the pain.

Lily Evans.

Evans. _Not _Potter.

Evans.

But Draco still had a chance. He had a chance to leave. He'd been brave enough to leave the darkness in the first place. He had a chance to wait out the War. To have a future.

The boy needed to forget whatever was holding back. He needed to at least _try_ to get away.

So Severus, instead of comforting the boy, he spoke true coarse, harsh words.

Because he needed it.

To show Draco the way.

To forget whatever he'd just experienced because it was _not _worth it.

To save him.

To give him what he deserved.

"Malfoy, snap out of it. You're letting yourself be led by your emotions and that is _cowardly _and foolish. Think for yourself, boy. Don't let someone else lead you to your death. It is time to leave. It is time to step up and save yourself. Nobody else will," Snape spoke harshly, his voice cutting through Draco's haggard mind.

The blonde's eyes drifted upwards to meet the beetle black eyes of his godfather. He shook away his clouded thoughts and stood up tall. He was right. _Nobody_ would help him. He had to help himself. "You lead the way, Severus," he said with grim efficiency.

The older wizard stepped forth, opening the door and heading out as Draco followed. "We don't have much time. The Ministry is already here, along with that vile pink lady. They're collecting muggleborns or something just as fickle. They'll be swarming the corridors by now. But our way of leaving is on the grounds. We have but a couple of minutes."

Draco nodded deadly, barely registering the words, biting his lip, drawing blood as his body protested to the scraping fabric of his clothes that seemed to rub over and over on his sensitive skin with ardour.

But a single phrase seemed to penetrate through the hard walls that he'd placed up to block out the clouded thoughts that composed of Hermione.

_The Ministry is already here._

His brain moved slowly and he froze as the words seemed to finally filter through.

"Hermione," he murmured, barely above a whisper, his body coming to a standstill.

Snape turned around at the muttered word. "What is it?" He snapped, halting his movements too.

Draco's eyes widened as the rest of the words seemed to finally set in place. _They'll be swarming the corridors by now_.

The corridors.

Hermione.

On the seventh floor corridor.

_They're collecting the muggleborns._

And with that, the already cracked wall that had held out the distressing thoughts of Hermione Granger fell into rubble and Draco felt is desperately built composure drop.

"Severus. I think need to do something," he said slowly, hardly acknowledging the older wizard as he made to move in the direction they'd come.

"Draco, no!" Snape stopped him, his wand whipping out and rope binding tightly around Draco's legs. "We need to leave _now_."

"I have just one more thing to do," the blonde begged desperately. Just one thing. Just to check. To see if she'd left. He would never forgive himself if he was able to leave and she wasn't. He would never forgive himself if the reason she couldn't leave was because she'd come to speak to him.

"Draco, it's too dangerous. We need to get out of here before the Ministry has Hogwarts surrounded. And then you'll never be able to leave," Severus reasoned in a hiss.

"Please," he nearly begged. "Please." Just give him a minute. Just a minute.

"Mr. Malfoy. No. We need to get you _out_. I don't care what's so precious to you. You're going to have to leave it."

"No," he replied, determinedly.

"For Merlin's sake, Malfoy. You're insane. You won't be able to leave ever again."

Draco pulled at the binds with his hands and looked up at the pitch black eyes of his mentor. "I'm sorry, Severus. I just need to see one last thing. Look, you said Umbridge can't be watching the entirety of Hogwarts. The grounds are meant to be impossible to apparate from. She won't be watching them closely. We can still leave from the edge of the forbidden forest as planned. But," he hesitated. "Just not now. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow morning. At 5am. All I need to do is see."

"It's too dangerous of a bet to take a chance on, boy! Whatever or _whoever_ you want to see is _not worth it,_" Snape exclaimed, callously. Lily Evans was _not _worth it.

The blonde's hands shook in nervous anticipation as he fought to unbind the rope. Nervous anticipation of feeling her touch once more. No. He did _not _want her to still be here. He wanted her to be gone. Despite the fact that all he wished for was one last time to hold her again, he needed her gone and _out_. "I'm sorry, Severus," Draco murmured, the binding rope falling to the floor.

And he bolted.

Salazar, save her.

**AN. Okay, as we progress further and further away from the beginning of the story I am getting more and more out of my comfort zone. I'm not really used to writing plot based scenes so ... yeah.**

**The last scene for me was incredibly awkward. I hope it wasn't as awkward for for as it was for me.**

**Other than my pathetic excuse for an ending scene, I hope you liked the rest of the chapter (: I have just realised that this story will be approximately 16 chapters and an epilogue if you guys want it.**

**xoxo.**


	14. Scream

**DISCLAIMER: JK ROWLING OWNS ALL PROPERTIES OF HARRY POTTER. THIS STORY IS NON PROFITABLE.**

**The smut scene at the end of the chapter is loosely based of an idea I found in a Vampire Academy one shot. I asked the author if I could borrow the idea and she agreed. Thanks to LauraKateAdrian**

**Also the quote, "My thoughts are stars I cannot fathom into constellations" is from the book The Fault In Our Stars by John Green.**

**Chapter 14; Scream**

_"I'm sorry, Severus," Draco murmured, the binding rope falling to the floor._

_And he bolted._

_Salazar, save her._

_._

* * *

><p>.<p>

Hermione was vaguely aware of the rustling sounds of students and an odd thunder of steps but she hardly paid them any attention as she scrambled up the stairs frantically.

Her heart beating oddly in her chest, she fought the thoughts that threatened to consume her and instead focused on thinking of what she needed to materialise.

She paced uneasily back and forth. She stopped and looked up. _I need a way to leave. I need a way to leave. I need a way to leave._

Nothing.

No door.

Hermione's hands shook violently and she was tempted to punch the unmoving brick wall.

So she tried again, stalking hastily up and down the corridor.

_I need a room that creates a passage to Hogsmeade. I need a room that creates a passage to Hogsmeade. I need a room that creates a passage to Hogsmeade._

Her eyes opened to almost miraculously, find a door. A door. A door to her escape.

She rushed forwards, hand reaching forwards and grappling the handle.

But before she could turn the doorknob, a sudden coursing heat encompassed the brass steel of the handle. Hermione jerked her hand backwards in response, hissing.

"I hope you're not going anywhere?" A tittering, high voice interrupted.

She spun around, long, messy, dark locks flying behind her back to find a short, plump witch with a disgustingly pink cardigan. Her breath shook as it fell out from between her lips in short gasps. She was _too late_. The Ministry was already here.

Umbridge laughed a spiteful tinkling laugh at Hermione's shocked silence. "I thought as much."

"It's amazing you can think at all with all that pink," Hermione snapped in annoyance. She could take on one stupid pink lady.

"Ah ah ah now, miss. You should learn to respect your elders. Otherwise you might find yourself in … _quite _of a pickle," the painfully pink lips voiced. She clapped her hands and rather sinister 5 darkly dressed men rounded the corner to stand behind Umbridge. "Do you know who these are?"

Hermione stiffened and glared.

Umbridge laughed another simpering giggle. "These are snatchers. And they're for naughty children who don't obey the Ministry. You wouldn't want that would you, sweetie?"

The brunette narrowed her eyes as the despicable pink witch walked away leaving the 5 sinister wizards to stalk the length of the corridor, each drawing out their wands. One even had the audacity to throw her a disgustingly vile smile, showing off revolting yellow teeth.

Hermione felt her body begin to shake as she realised. She realised that the Ministry were already here. She realised that Hermione was soon to be _collected_.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

"Granger," Draco bellowed, as he headed up endless staircases, legs burning with strain.

Fuck. Please let her be gone. Please let her be safe. Please let her not still be here. Please just let her―

No.

No.

No.

He could recognise that mane of luscious coffee locks anywhere.

"Granger," he murmured to himself.

"What was that boy?" A tall leering man who stood nearby demanded, threateningly gripping his wand.

No.

This couldn't be happening.

She was meant to be gone and safe.

Hermione turned around at the commotion and met the shocked, pale grey eyes of Draco's. Pale grey eyes that glittered like rare diamonds.

"Draco," she said, barely above a whisper and he immediately propelled himself into her, slamming her against the wall.

His hands explored her body once more as if trying to learn her body by memory. He choked out a desperate cough of laughter as he pressed frantic lips against hers for a savage kiss as their body's melded together like iron into steel.

He was convinced their previous encounter was going to be their last and now, as he held her in his arms once more, he never wanted to relinquish her.

Her hands wound around his neck as she kissed him back deliriously.

"Kids," a scoff interrupted. "I can't wait for the mudbloods to be gone. At least there'll be fewer children to deal with."

Draco instantaneously whipped around with savage eyes before Hermione pulled him away, dragging him down the corridor until they were in a hidden alcove.

"I can take them," he bit, hissing into her ear.

"No, you can't," she countered.

"Yes I can," he argued. "Long enough for you to leave."

Hermione shook her head, determinedly. "No. No. No. You'll get hurt. Even if you could, there are more of them around the corner. They have the place surrounded."

"I don't care. You need to get out of there. You heard what he said. They're collecting muggleborns."

She sighed. "No, Malfoy. It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does!" He exclaimed loudly before she shushed him.

"No," she said, firmly.

"You were the one who said you wanted to fight," he conceded.

"And so what? But now, it looks like I can't. You are _not _putting yourself in danger for me."

"Fuck your morals," he snapped.

"They're not morals. I'm just telling you that it's not worth it. You can't just put yourself in danger for _me_. I'm not worth it."

His hands skimmed along the curve of her back. _Yes she was_. But he was hardly going to admit that to her. Not now. Not ever.

"Malfoy," she murmured. "I thought you were going to leave too. Why are you still here? The Ministry's been infiltrated. Wasn't it time for you too? Before you're trapped here right in Voldemort's grasp?"

Draco's scorching eyes searched hers. "I―I―couldn't. I needed to see if you had…" His hoarse words trailed off.

"To see if I had left," she finished for him. "And now you're trapped here, too."

"It's not as bad as you think it is," he tried to explain.

"What do you mean it's not as bad as I think it is? How are you going to leave now? Umbridge has the Room of Requirement and all secret passageways sealed off. There's no way to leave other than to simply run off the grounds which is _impossible. _There is _no_ way!" She exclaimed.

Something in his mind clicked. Yes. There was a way. He had something that could get her out of Hogwarts.

A way to get her out. Something that was meant entirely for him.

But he had to.

He had to get her out of here. He would have no idea what would happen to her if the Ministry took her.

He had Snape to keep him obscured and hopefully that would be enough.

Meanwhile, she had nothing.

Her name was on a list and impossible to remove.

She was the one who needed to leave.

"I have something that can take people out of here," he murmured, specifically not mentioning that it was only for one. For him. And now; for _her_.

Hermione's eyes widened. "Are you sure?" She questioned, warily. "For you too?"

His heart clenched and ignored the last question. But yes. He was entirely sure. He was the reason she couldn't leave in the first place. Because she'd come back for him. She needed to leave more than he did. "Yes," he said with finality. An answer which could've been for both questions. "Trust me," he murmured.

She sighed and released her tensed muscles, falling back into his arms as his tongue nudged her lips open with an indulgent moan. "When?"

"We leave tomorrow morning. Before the sun rises," he murmured. She would be leaving. But he would not.

His arms circled her waist, pulling her inexplicably closer until the friction was unbearable. Just one more night, he promised. Just one more night to hold her. Just _one _more.

He knew it was dangerous. That he should be getting her to leave _now_.

It didn't matter that the portkey was at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The possibility of her leaving successfully was dropping with each passing second.

But he just needed one more night.

One more night to memorise her.

One more night to indulge in her.

One more night to pretend.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Hermione's hands lazily explored his back as he lay on his stomache, low, rumbling laughs occasionally emerging with the rippling of his back muscles.

This was far worse.

This.

Counting down the ticking time. Knowing when they had to part. Knowing that each passing second was a second of their last night.

This was far worse than before.

The moon shone a sickly yellow in the veil of deep navy blue. And underneath the moonlight, he heard rustles from directly outside followed by shouts and screams. Snatchers must've caught somebody trying to escape.

He was faintly aware that he shouldn't be holding her right now. That she should be leaving _right now_ or already _gone_.

Why was he holding on?

It was like he was grappling with the last few strands he had before the fabric ripped entirely to pave way for insanity.

A determined knock sounded at her door and Hermione roused, lifting herself off Draco, still fully clothed.

"Know who it is?" He questioned, pulling her back down.

She shook her head, trying to escape his grasping arms.

"Good, then don't answer it."

Hermione looked at him with disbelief before rolling her eyes at the blonde. She fended off his arms and jumped off the bed to head towards the door.

"Hide," she hissed.

"What's the point," he sighed.

She glared. "Stop being melodramatic, Malfoy. Now _hide_."

He wearily picked himself up from the bed and promptly rolled off it to hide underneath the large 4 poster bed.

Hermione opened the door to her dormitory room to find a stern faced Professor McGonagall before her.

"Professor?" She breathed, nervously.

"Oh hello dear," the older witch looked slightly flustered. "There's a full school meeting down in the Great Hall now."

Hermione furrowed her brows. "Now?" It was the middle of the night.

The professor nodded, lips turning into a hard pursed line. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to wake the others."

The moment the door shut, the brunette turned around to find Draco already picking himself up from the floor before striding with long, elegant steps towards her, crushing her into his body.

"Umbridge," she voiced their mutual thoughts.

"Do you think―" He began.

"No. It's the middle of the night. They can't be collecting muggleborns already."

A cool finger traced her chin before tilting it up so that her eyes would meet his. His pained gaze searched hers fervently before claiming a desperate kiss.

He was a fool. He should've taken her to where he was leaving immediately after. What was the point in waiting one more night? And now, she might be taken away. Fuck. He always screwed things up.

"Draco," Hermione murmured into his lips. "Don't worry. You should be worrying about yourself. I can handle the Ministry but you have Voldemort on your back. Don't worry about me, worry about yourself."

He reluctantly pulled away from her lips, breathing heavily. "Granger, I'm nothing and nobody. I'm not worth worrying about."

Hermione frantically pulled his lips against hers, body pressing tightly into his, stomache clenching. _Yes he was._

Draco's body folded into hers as he attacked her lips, feverish tongue slipping between her lips as she gasped, hands gripping her hair tightly, tangling themselves into her dark, luscious locks. Hoping, wishing, _dreaming,_ that this wouldn't be their last. He wanted one more night. Only one more. And Merlin be damned if that was going to be ripped from him because of that vile lady with the pink cardigan.

"Malfoy," a soft voice murmured, breaking away and Draco's eyes fluttered open once more to find himself unbelievably close to her. So close that he could count the freckles that dusted her nose or the lashes of her eyes if they weren't so thick and long. His breath hitched in his throat before he stole another heated kiss. "We need to go to the Great Hall," she mumbled into his dominant lips.

He ripped his lips from hers, catching his breath before grumbling. "Fine, I'll see you there."

He tore himself from the warmth of her body and stalked to arched window.

"See you, Granger," he murmured before promptly jumping out of the window, broomstick in tow, zooming off into the distant horizon.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

"Hermione! What are you still doing here?" Ginny exclaimed as she sat down beside her.

The brunette simply looked down at the chipped tile before her in silence.

"You got caught," Ginny concluded in awe. "How even…"

Hermione nodded but their conversation was interrupted by proclamations in the crowd.

"That is bullshit!" Someone shouted. "You're taking the muggleborns away to be locked up!"

"Now now now," Umbridge simpered. "It is a muggleborn _registration _law. We simply need to bring them to the Ministry, and if they can prove that they have not _stolen_ their magic, then they are fit to leave."

"STOLEN?" Another exclaimed.

"Now, children. May I simply restate; it is a muggleborn _registration_."

"Then why don't the purebloods or the half bloods need to be '_registrated'?" _Seamus formed air quotation marks.

"Don't question my authority, children. We all know what happens to bad little children," the pink lady said airily.

Uniform silence fell across the entire student body. The group of menacingly darkly dressed men were indication enough.

"Now, that we've settled past our initial little _disagreement_, I hope that you all will agree with me that this is a very democratic approach."

"Democratic approach my arse," Ginny hissed under her breath.

"I have decided to inform you of our engagement prior to the time due to common courtesy. Muggleborns shall approach the Great Hall at 7 am tomorrow morning, promptly please, to be escorted to the Ministry. For those naughty children who decide to misbehave, you will receive the necessary punishment and we will assume that you have something to hide."

Hermione's breath caught in her throat. 7 in the morning. They had enough time to leave.

Together?

She was entirely doubtful that they would be leaving together despite what he'd told her.

He wouldn't have looked so downright terrible if he was telling the truth. His eyes that looked like thunderstorms and fine lines surrounded his eyes each time he looked at her. The too tight grip, the way he kissed her each time with desperate biting teeth.

He wouldn't have kept on acting this way if they were truly leaving together to be safe.

But she knew that he would never admit to it.

And she hated him for it but she knew she couldn't possibly change who he was.

She had no idea why he wasn't leaving with her but she hoped to God that it was a good reason.

So she played along with his lies. And pretended to be ecstatic.

Because if you pretended hard enough, maybe you'll even believe it yourself.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

He released the unconscious breath in which he had been holding. She wasn't going to be taken by the Ministry until morning. The morning in which she'd already be gone. _Hopefully_.

He had one more night. One very short night, but still one more night. One more night to hold her. One more mind to feel the enrapturing warmth of her body and the spasmodic ripples that engulfed his length when she orgasmed.

Fuck he was sick.

Thinking about fucking _sex _when War was looming tantalisingly close.

But he couldn't help it because he knew that this was most likely going to be the last night in which he'd be able to hold her. The last fucking night.

It was so much harder knowing exactly how long it was before the timer went off.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Hermione rushed up the spiral staircase to her room, waiting impatiently for the moment when he would arrive.

Her eyes were heavy from exhaustion but her body was tingling with nervous anticipation. Anticipation for when his body would fold into hers and they could pretend that absolutely nothing was wrong.

She noticed a flash of ice blonde hair in the pitch black veil of darkness that was night outside.

Hermione unlatched the window as Draco climbed through, shaking flakes of snow that had blended seamlessly into his hair. "You were fast," she noted, surprised, not expecting him for at least a few minutes, seeing as it took quite a fair amount of time to find the _correct _window to knock on. It would be disastrous if he found the wrong one.

"I wanted to see you," he shrugged. That was an understatement.

And before Hermione could speak again, he took two long striding steps to where she was reaching for her wand on her bedside table, lips immediately claiming hers in hot, wild fury.

His tongue slid into the heat of her mouth as she gasped in surprise, dragging her towards him roughly. His skin and lips were cold from the winter snow but his tongue was scorching hot, a stark contrast, making Hermione moan carelessly into his urgent lips.

"You're freezing," she paused, a finger trailing down the bare exposed skin of his arms, wet from the moisture of melted snowflakes.

"I don't care," he said roughly, eyes that gazed at her with hunger.

His already warm lips claimed hers once more, hand caught in her tangled hair, tongue coaxing yet another low dulcet moan from her lips.

"Wait," she said, ripping her lips from his. Her hand reached for her wand once more and lifted it up to cast the usual silencing spell. However, before she could mutter the incantation, a cold hand wrapped around hers, stopping her.

She looked up at his eyes in confusion as he smirked at her deviously, eyes glinting mischievously. "Trust me," he grinned wickedly.

He dragged her to the four-poster bed, pulling the slippery sheets entirely off the bed and laying her down. The bed was warm and inviting, smelling exactly of her, yet Draco had spent enough time in it for it to have that slight masculine tang of aftershave hanging on the sheets.

His hands grappled desperately at the buttons of her shirt, tugging at them frenziedly before her milky skin was revealed, glowing in the dim firelight. His breath caught in his throat immediately, just like each and every time he'd seen her. He would _never _fucking get sick of her.

They're hands roamed wildly across each other's backs, tugging and ripping of clothing hurriedly to reveal warm, smooth skin on skin.

Draco grappled wildly at the spinning tendrils of sanity that were leaving him with each searing kiss that rendered him speechless and harsh, gasping breaths.

He revelled at her bare, creamy skin as she lay before him, completely naked, amber eyes firmly staring back into his with determination. He ripped his eyes from hers to roam her body, devouring every single fucking inch her with his lust-ridden gaze.

_Mine mine mine._ He thought to himself, hands trailing up and down her sides, iris's like molten lava as she rocked her hips devilishly against his, snapping him out of his almost trance-like state.

He groaned low in his throat from the friction that provided unearthly pleasure, stifling it so that her housemates wouldn't hear.

His eyes snapped back into the little game he had set in store.

Hermione gasped softly as a wicked smirk graced his lips. "Malfoy, whatever you're planning, I don't want any part―_ohh._"

He had leant down, tongue darting naughtily down her neck and jaw line until he was sucking firmly at the sensitive hollow of her neck.

"Shh…my sweet. Don't want anyone to hear us do you?" He chastised, teasingly.

Yet, as if sadistically, he began his descent lower and lower until Hermione was gasping for breath. One hand was still tangled in her hair, scraping the base of her neck whilst the other hand was rubbing soothing circles at the small of her back, the complete opposite of the absolutely _sinful _things he was doing to her with his mouth.

His lips had found her entrance and he was now mercilessly sucking on her clit as Hermione thrashed on the bed below him, biting determinedly on her hand to repress the building moans.

"Please," she whispered. "Just let me put the silencing spell on."

Draco lifted his head from his ministrations and focused a domineering gaze of her. "Not yet, Princess. I want to see how long you can keep control."

Hermione shuddered from the intensity of his eyes before the building need became too much and she bucked her hips off the mattress in an attempt to meet his lascivious mouth once more.

_Obviously not very long_, she thought to herself.

Draco easily granted her needs, nose nudging between her folds as his tongue twisted and pressed against her entrance.

Delicious, he smirked as he ran his tongue again and again up her entrance to the bundle of nerves that made her body tremble when stroked. He felt her legs lifting along side of him to wrap reflexively around his neck, pulling him closer to her pleasure.

She wanted more. She needed more. But she refused to beg him lest her housemates hear.

She would just have to hold onto the belief that he would cast a silencing charm soon.

Yet with each and every deliciously long stroke of his tongue and tugging suck of his lips that threatened to pull her closer and closer towards the edge, he refused to relent.

He couldn't possibly be serious. She certainly didn't _think _he was serious. He sincerely couldn't consider that she could keep quiet when she was so close to―to… But here she was, gasping for breath as her heart rate accelerated from pure arousal and still, he was tugging relentlessly at the frayed edges of her sanity.

And not only the fact that he refused to let her cast a silencing charm, it was also as if he knew every single goddamn thing that made her squirm in desire.

She whimpered in anguish, hips rising off the bed and back arching nervously.

"Not a single _sound_," he reminded.

Hermione nearly let the bubbling tension spill over right then, with his dulcetly harsh words.

"Oh Jesus Christ," she hissed in a loud, keening moan that escaped her lips, echoing piercingly clear.

She instantaneously slapped her mouth shut the moment she realised, looking at him almost guiltily.

But too late.

Draco's gleaming silver eyes danced as he smirked, before swiftly flipping her on her front and rearing his firm hand back to spank her arse as if she was a petulant child.

Hermione gasped loudly, looking to the door almost as if by instinct as the sharp sound of smacking flesh reverberated around the room. She forced herself not to moan in delight at the fact that the firm spank had felt completely and utterly pleasing to her already aroused clit, stowing away her newly found prowess to focus on the sounds outside her dormitory. She was absolutely positive that her housemates would now be storming up the staircase.

"Did you like that, sweetheart?" He murmured soothingly as his finger dipped between her legs again to feel the rapidly pooling wetness.

She bit her lip as she blushed in humiliation which was completely stupid of course. He'd seen her in far worse conditions than this.

Draco smirked in satisfaction at the growing red hand mark that began to appear on the porcelain skin of her arse cheek. Games were so much more fun when with her.

"Now now, Granger. You should learn to be quiet. Do you want your housemates to hear? I frankly don't care, but I doubt you'd want them to come barging to see you spread eagled bare just for me," he reminded yet again.

She felt a moan rising in her throat from his words but she bit her lip to contain it.

He then began a torturously slow descent down her back, sending shivers down her spine as he kissed along each vertebra.

The space between her naked thighs was slick with arousal from his ministrations as she clamped her legs together protectively His hand began trailing further down until he found her upper thighs. He slipped a finger between her legs and twisted it so that it ran along her slit as Hermione gasped in shock.

Her lips parted in an unsuspecting moan as Draco's finger forced itself further through her clamped legs until it was rubbing disjointedly at her clit.

"Draco," a cry was ripped from her lips.

Hermione snapped her lips shut and closed her eyes in anticipation for the penalty.

He raised his hand for another slap however, before he could bring down his palm in a blow, Hermione swiftly turned around and attacked his lips desperately. Draco's eyes widened in surprise before unresistingly leaning into the kiss.

His hands grappled with her long, riotous locks of chocolate, tugging frantically as their lips clashed painfully.

A low pent up groan flitted through his parted lips and this time, it was Hermione's turn to smirk.

"I thought you said be quiet?" She whispered, teasingly.

He opened his eyes wearily, revealing dilated pupils and a hazy grin playing on his lips. "I told _you_ to be quiet if you didn't want to be caught, but I truthfully don't mind." His gaze suddenly became wickedly mischievous as Hermione looked in wonder at the mercurial young wizard before her. "You've been a naughty girl haven't you, Granger?"

She laughed softly. "Naughty?"

"You stopped me when I was about to spank you," he replied. "And it's time for you to suffer the consequences."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Am I being _punished?_"

He smirked once more and kissed her in response, sucking painfully hard on her lower lip.

She pulled away and scoffed, reaching for her wand to cast a silencing charm but once again, she was stopped.

"Not yet, sweetheart. You _are _being punished." His voice was threateningly low in her ear, laced with dark promise.

Hermione watched intently as Draco sat up away from her and licked his lips. His eyes glittered like the palest of diamonds yet his pupils seemed to be swallowing his irises. It was a battle of light and dark occurring in his eyes. He looked _hungry_.

"Roll over," he demanded, eyes flickering over hers waiting for a challenge.

"What?" She exclaimed.

"Roll over," he repeated, frigidly, eyes flashing.

She winced at his cold tone and rolled onto her stomache as Draco moved to the opposite end of the bed to watch.

"Get onto your hands and knees," he ordered.

Hermione looked behind her apprehensively. "Why?" She questioned.

"Do what I say," he said calmly.

"But―"

"Are you going to ever behave?" He snapped.

Hermione flinched at his thinly veiled insult but complied, rising onto her hands and knees so that her arse was facing him. Her hands shook slightly in uneasiness.

"Good girl," he murmured, sitting up straight, a hand reaching out to trail down her concaved spine to the rise of her still stinging arse.

"Draco what are you―" Hermione's words caught in her throat as his finger dipped down to gently thumb her bundle of nerves which had previously been neglected. "Oh."

She heard him chuckle softly before withdrawing his hand. Hermione made a low sound of protest, barely above a whisper but nevertheless, the smallest sound carried across the stone room.

"I'll get to you soon enough," he replied, pressing a kiss at the base of her spine.

He cast a lingering hand admiringly over her creamy skin, longing to be deep inside of her but knowing that after tonight, it would be a while.

A while was an understatement.

How about _never_.

But he thrust the negative thoughts out of his mind and simply let himself become engulfed with his last memories of her.

He could feel her shaking in anticipation. He wondered if she knew what he was going to do to her. He wondered if she wanted it. He wondered if she felt the same as he did right now.

He leant over her until his body was covering hers. "I want to fuck you hard sweetheart," he hissed hotly in her ear.

"What?" Hermione spoke to the headboard in shock, rocking on her wrists to loosen the uncomfortable pressure building in them.

Draco chuckled in her ear. "Oh, the things I want to do to you. I want you screaming my name until your throat because hoarse."

She widened her eyes before blushing heavily, ducking her head into her chest in embarrassment. "Malfoy, what are you―"

"Come on now, Granger," he said, darkly. "Don't tell me you don't feel the same."

His breath ghosted across her feverish skin, raising goosebumps in its path.

"Do you want me to fuck you until you can't even stand?"

Her arms trembled beneath her. "Why are you saying this," she murmured weakly.

"Because we all know that there's a place within you, Granger. A carnal place in which you're practically _begging_ me to fuck you as rough as I can until you're shaking." She heard him licking his lips beside her ear. "Well, you're already shaking," he said matter-of-factly, a hint of a smile on his lips.

_Cocky bastard,_ she thought to herself.

"Hermione," he hissed hotly into her ear. He had begun rocking his hips against hers, hands on either side of hers. Her name sounded absolutely _filthy _coming from his irresistible lips.

"Draco," she mimicked, sarcastically.

His entire body seemed to tremble from the pure desire to be _buried _to the fucking _hilt _within her and her naked body in that position was not boding well with his self control but this was his last fucking night. And he wanted― no he fucking _needed _something to replay over and over again as he drowned in his own misery when she left.

He groaned as she rocked her hips back so that her arse pressed closer against the sensitive skin of his length.

Just a little longer. He needed to hold out a little longer. The longer he waited, the more she squirmed. He _needed _to draw out this encounter. To evade sleep for as long as possible. Because the moment they collapsed with exhaustion, their precious hours would slip down the drain.

He loved the pale pink blush that spread across her cheeks as warmth pooled between her legs, her thighs becoming slick with her arousal.

"Malfoy," she whispered. "Please."

"Just a little longer, Princess," he murmured. Just a little. This needed to last as long as possible because this was most likely the last time he would ever see her.

"Why?" She begged in impatience.

"Trust me," he smirked against the skin of her neck.

His hand slipped between her legs to gently rub her clit. Hermione gasped at the contact, back arching even further. He was positioned perfectly to take her. To fuck her and abandon reason. To make her scream.

"I want to make you shudder and moan, knowing that I'm the _only _person who will ever get to see you this way," he continued whispering dirty words into her ear. "Until you can't remember your bloody translations for Ancient Ruins, until you forget your own name."

She panted heavily beneath his words. It wasn't fair. Nobody was meant to affect one person so much but here he was, his _words_ alone driving her crazy. She needed to trust him. And she did. But his words were doing unmentionable things to her and he wasn't doing anything about it.

A lascivious smirk danced on his lips as she shifted eagerly, the pressure between her legs building to an almost painful scale.

"Draco, if you don't fucking do this _right _now, I am going to make you regret it _so_ much later. Just fucking do it!" She exclaimed.

As long as possible his arse. He needed her _now_.

Draco's control broke and thrust with no small measure of force, claiming and burying his length deep within her as Hermione gasped loudly in shock.

His entire body shuddered at the sensation of finally being within her and her pant of pleasure, pain and surprise seemed to slide across his skin like silk.

She was enthralling, completely and fucking utterly _irresistible _as he fought a low groan that threatened to escape his lips. They after all, still hadn't cast the silencing charm. However he was greatly regretting it as she rocked her hips back into his, Draco forcing himself to swallow yet another rumble of delight.

Hermione's breath caught in her throat at the pressure that prodded within her. This was definitely worth it.

He paused for a moment, relishing the feeling of her warm wrapped tightly around his length. His eyes drifted shut as he pulled out of her inviting warmth to only slam back in. An absolutely lovely low sung melody was ripped from her throat.

"Shh…" He shushed.

She suddenly remembered that they still hadn't put up the silencing spell. "Draco, my housemates. They'll hear―"

"Which is why we need to stay quiet," he responded.

He couldn't possibly serious. He couldn't possibly expect her to stay quiet when they were… doing _this_. He was insane. She couldn't do this. He might, but she certainly could _not_. Each time he simply _moved_, she wanted to scream. "Why?" She stuttered as he sank back into her once again.

"You _are _being punished, Princess," he pointed out.

She began to protest until a long, rough thrust rendered her speechless. She never wanted him to stop.

He gripped her hips tightly, pulling her back against him with every surge of his hips as she pushing back, matching is increasingly wild rhythm that seemed to consume her.

Low gasps filled the room as they fought to control their mutual groans. The slapping of skin on skin echoed across the room, an ever increasing crescendo, matched with a few careless moans and unspoken words; a primal, carnal melody. Fast, furious, frantic, feral.

Hermione gasped loudly, the sound filling the room dangerously as she found his fingers stroking her clit firmly. _Yes_, she groaned inwardly, eyelids flickering shut.

She was keening at the brink of pleasure and he knew it too. She was quivering, her entire body taught as a drawn bowstring.

She was giving him everything. Everything in her power. Everything in which she could possibly give and so was he. His eyebrows were furrowed with pressure and a light sheen of sweat covered the two of them.

He thrust powerfully into her straining pussy as his fingers slid up and down her sex-bud, slick with her arousal.

Why hadn't he done this before?

Why hadn't he fucked her like this when he had the chance?

Why did it have to come down to the ticking time of the tipped over hourglass?

And after he'd had this last taste of complete and utter bliss, it would be ripped from him. For-fucking-ever.

Life was fucking cruel.

But he forgot all about that when the girl before him began to clench her internal muscles around his cock. She was about to come. He thrust into her relentlessly, harder and harder, his finger rubbing frenziedly against her clit.

He bent down so that his mouth was against the base of her neck. "Come for me, Princess."

Hermione's eyes were squeezed shut as he pounded into her. "Draco, please. Silencing―" She was cut off with a low gasp that could have been _much _louder.

He listened to her anguished breaths and decided that he'd tortured her enough. His hand shakily reached for her discarded wand at her bedside table and quickly cast a silencing charm. "Scream for me," he hissed.

She grasped the sheets beneath her hands as a loud moan overtook her, keening for release. Her muscles clenched impulsively as her orgasm finally crested and fell, ripping throughout her body, waves all encompassing as her eyes flew open in wonder. "Draco!" She screamed.

Hermione lost all control to continue moving against him so he thrust even harder into her, riding out every single pleasurable drop of her orgasm.

"I knew you would scream my name," Draco growled, voice hoarse with exertion.

Hermione's trembling arms collapsed bringing her torso down with them, simply purring in response, nodding incoherently.

Draco knew he probably wasn't going to last too long. No, scrap that, he _wasn't _going to last very long at all. He could already feel the tension creeping up the point in which he would no longer be able to handle.

Fuck.

Creeping?

He meant that it was already fucking _there._

"Oh by Salazar," he murmured as if on a prayer as he felt darkness encroaching the fringes of his vision.

He grabbed her hips roughly as sounds of ecstasy rolled off his tongue from each bone-jarring thrust. He struggled to maintain the unearthly sounds that were escaping his lips but he simply couldn't. Fuck, why did she feel so fucking _good_? How every single little thing about her seemed to fit perfectly with him?

With one final painfully slow thrust, he pulled her flushed body against his and came deep inside of her, biting his lip and drawing blood so that he wouldn't cry out. His vision swam as he felt the tension in his abdomen break and explode. _Screw it_. "Hermione!" A hoarse groan escaped his panting lips, the word leaving his mouth and hanging in the energy of the room.

He gingerly pulled out of her with shaking limbs before collapsing in an ungraceful heap.

Draco instinctively wrapped his arms around her waist to pull her body into his.

Fuck he never wanted to let her go.

His lips brushed her temple as she sighed into his ear.

He loved the way she did that.

He loved the way she said his name.

He loved the way her hands would glide of his chest as she was doing right now.

He loved the way she would always press her lips against his neck after sex.

He loved…

No.

Yes?

_No. _

He most certainly didn't love her. Did love feel like this?

Was love the all encompassing, savage, selfish and vicious passion he felt for her?

He thought love was sweet and gentle like what that fucktard Weasley was always like with her.

He had absolutely no clue.

It was as if his thoughts were stars he couldn't fathom into constellations.

But he couldn't possibly… No, he wasn't capable of love. He didn't _deserve_ love.

He admitted that he wanted her and that was the extent of his affections. They both ought to be ashamed of the relationship.

Yet neither could walk away.

He wondered if she felt the same way as he did for her.

Draco shook his head wearily, arms suffocating her into his body.

_I guess it's too late to find out_, he thought hazily as he drifted to sleep, lulled by her deep, even breathing.

**AN. I'm sorry this is a little late but this chapter was originally 11,000 words long and that took quite a while to write but I ended up splitting it into two different chapters. Which means that the next chapter is practically finished! I just need to self-beta it.**

**We _are _drawing to an end. Whoop whoop! Party for me.**

**I love you all so very much and I hope you stick with me for my next story idea! (: **


	15. Close

**DISCLAIMER: ALL RIGHTS OF THE HARRY POTTER FRANCHISE GOES TO THE 'CRITICALLY ACCLAIMED' JK ROWLING. etc, etc, etc.**

**Chapter 15; Close**

Hermione's eyes fluttered open as a loud roar of thunder cackled from outside. Rain was drizzling against the window pane and it was still relatively close to pitch black. However, she didn't know if it was from the hour of the day or whether the thunderclouds were merely covering the rising sun.

She focused her attention on the warm body lying beside her, arms wrapped loosely around her waist. She listened to his deep, even breath, her eyes fluttering shut at his steady rhythm.

It was odd, how familiar it was.

It couldn't have been more than a month but already she could recognise his breath.

She cautiously turned around, careful not to rouse the slumbering blonde. Her eyes focused in the darkness and easily found the mop of ice blonde hair. It was frightening how familiar he was yet each and every time she saw him, she would be blown away by his destructive beauty that hid a pained flowering soul.

"Watching me now are you, Granger?" A husky voice chuckled, eyes flickering open to reveal pale grey orbs with as much density as mercury.

"How could I resist? You're gorgeous," she joked.

He grinned but his smile almost immediately faded, eyes drifting into a contemplative state. Hermione shivered at how easily his mood could change.

Draco's arms instinctively tightened around her body, drawing her closer, legs tangling with sheets. "Cold?" He murmured, pressing her close into his feverishly, warm torso.

Hermione shook her head and instead buried her head into the crook of his shoulder, inhaling one last long, deep breath of the clean scent of fresh laundry and morning dew.

He was looking lazily over her shoulder, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The first pathetic rays of sunlight were shimmering over the horizon. It couldn't have been any later than 5 but he already knew he was cutting it close.

"We need to leave now," he said matter-of-factly.

Leave.

The word seemed to cut through her thoughts like a knife slicing through air, swift like a whip yet oddly disjointed.

Hermione nodded in understanding.

Last night was a onetime thing.

They would never be able to indulge in one another again.

Not until… Not until the War was over. If they even survived at all.

She sat up straight, shrugging off his still grasping hands, staggering off the bed, wrapping the blanket tightly around her still naked form for the warmth that he no longer gave.

Hermione found the discarded clothes, thrown in disarray around her room, slipping on garment by garment until she was fully clothed.

Draco assessed her from the post in his bed with studious grey eyes. "You're going to need a coat," he stated.

She nodded blankly and went to find a coat in her wardrobe. By the time in which she had put on her coat and gathered what little precious belongings she had, he was already fully dressed, evaluating her. She noticed he was holding nothing but his wand. He certainly wasn't bringing much to leave with. Oh right, he _wasn't_ leaving with her. She had absolutely no idea why on earth not, however she'd rather not discuss such grave matters at a time in which each second was precious.

Why did man feel the need measure time? No other creature measured time. No bear, no deer, no owl felt the need to separate time into days, hours, minutes and seconds. Yet why did man? We still get the same 24 hours within each day and 365 days in each year. What was the difference? Because what it only left us with was the knowledge. The suffocating knowledge that at a certain point, time _would _run out.

Hermione shook the thoughts from her mind and continued to play along with his game. "Not bringing anything?"

Draco's eyes flashed with hesitation before responding. "I have nothing of value except for my wand."

She nodded for his benefit.

He opened up his arms to signal her to come to his side beside the open arched window which was currently blowing a gale of snow into her room. She shook off the temptation to run straight into his arms and instead walked levelly towards him.

"I guess it's time," she said, heavily.

She looked wearily at the broomstick that seemed to shine amber in the low lighting.

Draco allowed himself one last smile. "It's not going to bite."

Hermione rolled her eyes, climbing on behind him and before she could even notice, they were airborne. She gripped tightly, _painfully so_ if Draco would admit, on his waist as they mounted to high altitudes, staying underneath the cover of low hanging fog.

She let herself revel in the silence, forgetting her previous fear of getting on a broomstick, letting her mind drift. Her hands began to loosen around Draco's torso and he smiled inwardly to himself. He only wished that he had only thought to take her around on his broomstick earlier and now, he would never be able to again.

Eyes drifting shut, he flew simply by freedom, dipping and twisting freely before noticing the ticking time that seemed to ring in his ears as a dull drumming beat.

They dipped underneath the fog to scour the grounds which surprisingly was relatively empty save for a few clumps of figures black.

_Snatchers_, Draco thought to himself. _Pathetic excuses for Death Eaters._

He nearly laughed at the irony. Draco _Malfoy_ was the pathetic excuse for a Death Eater.

The two of them landed within the midst of the Forest and began trekking back towards the edge, Hermione with stumbling, sore legs from clamping on too tightly onto the broomstick, rubbing her hands together to provide warming friction.

They reached the edge of the Forest, where they were only a few scattered trees for cover from any passersby.

Draco took a few cautious steps forth and bent over beside a tree to pick up a lone, flaming red autumn leaf wedged underneath a snow covered log.

Hermione watched in confusion.

How was a bloody autumn leaf way past its prime going to help _anyone _leave?

Suddenly, it hit her. She nearly smacked her head at how sodding stupid she was. "It's a portkey," she said in surprise.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting her to speak before nodding. "Clever, Granger."

_Wait_, she abruptly thought.

It was a portkey.

Which meant it could take both of them?

Her last revelation was more of a question rather than a statement.

But why was he still looking so downright miserable?

She already knew that he wasn't leaving with her but it was a _portkey_ for Christ's sake. Which meant it was _able _to take both of them.

Then _why _wasn't he leaving with her?

"Why can't you leave with me?" She asked, sharply.

Draco's eyes widened. "What? I never said anything of the sort. I―"

"Oh cut the crap. I don't give a shit about whatever reason you didn't tell me for why you're not leaving Hogwarts, just tell me now," she snapped.

"Granger, I―"

"Shut it, Malfoy. Are you going to lie to me, again?"

"No!" He exclaimed.

"Don't deny it. You can be stoic all you want but you look terribly miserable," she bit with vehemence.

"I'm not miserable!" He protested.

"Quit lying to me, Malfoy. I'm not a fool. I played along last night and pretended that we would all live fucking happily ever after because I respected your privacy. But now? Standing right before me and still trying to _lie?" _His mouth opened to defend himself but was instantaneously cut off by her words. "And don't you _dare_ try tell me that you're not lying, _again_. I may not be a genius but I _know _when you're lying."

His remained silent.

"So tell me, _Slytherin_. Tell me. Tell me why you're _choosing _not leaving Hogwarts. The least you can do is give me an answer after all the shit you've put me through."

Draco's eyes bored directly through her, face completely devoid of emotion except for his clenched jaw. His fists were tightly clenched, shoulders proud.

"Oh come on, Malfoy. I think it's time for you to talk. After all the _talking_ you made me do last night," Hermione hissed.

He narrowed his eyes at her.

"You're quite the quite one aren't you, Sir?" She scoffed.

If she had called him 'sir' in _any _other context, he would be fucking her indecently by now.

"Now, now, Malfoy. Please don't let my _feelings _get in the way. Just _tell _me. I don't want _anything _else. Just fucking tell me why you're choosing to stay at school."

"Why do you want to know?" He exclaimed, loudly.

"Ah, he speaks," she hissed. "_Tell me_. Are you hiding here? Are you hoping for safety in numbers? _Or_, are you going back to the Death Eaters?"

His eyes narrowed into slits.

"_Really?_" She nearly laughed in spite of herself. "I never thought you to be the grovelling type. Trying to get back into the good books with old Voldemort now are you? You're using me too aren't you? _Fuck_. I bet you think you're pretty smart now don't you? Bedding the _virgin _Gryffindor. Harry Potter's best friend." The thoughts spilled out of her like molten fire. Every seed of doubt that she had about him surfacing. _Each and every_ grain of distrust and insecurity. "And I_ bet_ you think that when I see you on the battlefield that I'm simply going to run into your arms for you to kill me? You know, for a second you'd fooled me. I even thought that you weren't that bad. Guess that shows who the _real_ cowards are doesn't it, Malfoy? I guess you're feeling pretty fucking pathetic right now that you're plan has been soiled? Well guess what, you're _pathetic _and _worthless, _you complete and utter goddamn―"

"FUCK, GRANGER!" He roared into the silent winter morning air. Hermione gasped at his scorching breath whipping past her cold cheeks, cooling the hot tear stains she hadn't even realised she'd been shedding. Draco nearly collapsed at the sight of her cheeks flushed from the harsh arctic wind, marred by glistening tear tracks. "No," he murmured.

Hermione calmed her racing heart that had been clenching painfully throughout her entire downward spiral. "Then what, Malfoy? Tell me you have a better reason. Tell me why you're lying to me. Tell me."

His eyes lifted off the snow covered floor to meet hers. "Because, Hermione. Because the portkey only takes one. Snape charmed it to only take one person. _Me._"

She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "But why on earth would you do that?"

"Why wouldn't you? I was meant to be going to a safe house with one of my cousins. But it was dangerous enough as it is. A death eater could easily grab me and be whisked away into the wards. It's for protection."

Hermione shook her hands vaguely. "No, that's not what I meant. I mean, _why _would you make _me_ go?"

Draco shrugged. "Because."

"Draco," she said, her voice hard, demanding an answer.

"Because _you're _the one who needs to go. _You're _the one who needs to be safe. Not me. _You_. Because you need to fight in this War. _I _don't."

"So this portkey was your escape?" She asked, voice hushed.

He nodded.

He had to be kidding. No _way_. Her steely exterior faltered. This was all too much. It was as if each and every thing was spinning wildly out of control. "No. No. _NO!_" Hermione shouted. "I'm _not_ going."

"Why not?" He demanded, cruelly.

"Because! Because this was meant for _you!_ How can I leave knowing that it was the only way in which _you_ could leave!"

"_So?_" He emphasised. "Be selfish, Granger. I certainly am. I want you _alive_. I want you alive now and after the fucking War."

"That's not going to help if you're _dead!"_

"Oh come on, Granger. Stop being so dramatic. I'll be at Hogwarts. Safe and sound," he reasoned.

Hermione scoffed. "Funny. I thought that was the very reason why we had to leave. Hogwarts is no longer safe and sound anymore. There are actual _Death Eaters_ on the grounds. Not just one or two, _dozens_."

"Look, Princess. The bottom line is. You simply _cannot _stay here. You'll be whisked off by 7. _I _on the other hand, have a little longer."

"It _doesn't _matter!"

"Granger. What are you going to do here? Rot away until 7 in the morning? Which, may I remind you is in an _hour_. You have _nothing _here. I have Severus. I'll be fine," he reasoned calmly while his hands shook slightly.

"I thought Snape was a Death Eater?" Hermione questioned, softly.

Draco simply shook his head.

"Can you leave with Snape? He is Headmaster after all," she tried, desperately.

"Which is the exact reason why he can't leave. He's Headmaster _and _a Death Eater. He needs to stay at Hogwarts."

"Then how does having Snape help you in any way? You're still―"

He cut her off with a searing kiss that ignited all nerve endings. "Leave that for me to figure out. All you need to do is _leave_."

Hermione melted into his embrace, her arms coming up to comb through his silken locks of blonde hair now dotted with fresh snow.

"Please," he breathed into her ear, voice hoarse and rough.

She nearly agreed to him then and there, beginning to reach out for the seemingly harmless vibrate flaming red crusted leaf before recoiling. "No," she stated firmly, pushing away from him and stumbling backwards. "It's yours."

Draco hissed in frustration. "Why do you have to be so infuriating, witch? Just do what I say!"

"I did what you told me to do last night and that is the extent of my submissiveness. Did you expect me to be easy, Malfoy? Do you think you can just push me away like that?"

He paced in aggravation, making new footprints in the shallow layer of drifted snow. "You _need _to go! You need to be safe. You need to be safe so you can fight. I may not understand why you need to, but you need to fight. Please, Granger, just _go!_" His hands found her shoulders and were gripping them so tightly she winced.

"No, Malfoy. I'm not leaving knowing that _this _is your only way out of this hell hole too. I'm not worth this. Please," she gasped desperately. "I'm not worth _any _of this. I'm not worth it. I'm not worthy enough for you. I'm not worth it."

He ripped his hands away from her in exasperation. Why did he tell her in the first place? What good did it do? He should've just let her continue believing the horrible things about him that certainly could be _very _true. She would've been _gone_ by now. At whatever safe house his godfather had organised. But instead she was staring at him with flickering amber eyes, alight with determination.

He needed to get her to _leave_. Time was rapidly ticking down. The sun's rays that rose over the horizon cast a pale, purple morning light.

He needed her to leave.

He needed her to believe those awful things she'd said about him.

He needed her to _hate _him.

Hate him so that she wouldn't question him. So that her anger would blind her. So that she could be safe.

So that she could forget about him when he fucking died.

So he let her previous seeds of doubt and insecurity blossom once more into the fire that it was a mere few moments earlier.

He knew she didn't trust him completely.

And the harsh words that had spilt past her rosy lips only minutes before were only proof of how fast and far her distrust in him could bloom to.

He _knew it_, and Merlin forbid, it fucking _killed _him.

But he needed her to hate him.

After all, it's easier to forget someone you hate.

His eyes studied her like a predator and his prey, and this time there was no hint of pleasantries. "You're fucking daft woman," he scorned.

"What?" Hermione's brows furrowed.

"I still can't believe that you were _spot_ _on _the truth earlier yet you simply slid it underneath the rug. You really do love believing the best of people don't you?"

"Malfoy what are you―"

"And you _still _believe that I want you to leave purely for your own safety?" He laughed a tortured laugh.

"I―"

"You were right you know. I _am _a selfish bastard. I wanted you to leave so that I could see you on the battlefield and watch the _pain _on your face as your naïve eyes fade to dullness."

Understanding began to dawn in her eyes.

"And guess what, Princess?" The name was no longer given lightly. "You're fucking pathetic. You really did think that I'd changed didn't you? You thought that I had finally seen the light? Well, there are some things you just can't change." Draco loosed his sleeve and pushed back his soiled white oxford shirt to reveal the shadowy mark of a dark wizard.

Hermione averted her eyes from the coiled mass of black and callous pink scratches on silky pale skin.

He laughed manically. "And you know what else? I'll be back with the Death Eaters being _applauded _for breaking the lovely, perfect, saint Gryffindor princess."

Hermione's eyes flashed painfully. "You really think Voldemort will accept you back after he literally kicked you out?"

_He didn't kick me out. He wanted me to die. Then and there,_ Draco thought to himself but instead shrugged to her. "Severus has got my back. My fucking wretched parents would probably beg for another chance for me to redeem the Malfoy name."

He watched in detached satisfaction as her eyes began to yield fury. _Just a little more_, he thought to himself, ignoring the tortured look in her eyes that nearly ripped up the only shreds of resolve he had left to see this through. She _needed_ to be gone.

And for that moment, he let the vile, shadowy monster that had been lurking the inner depths of his minds loose.

"Now who's looking downright miserable?" He sneered. "What does it feel like? To be _humiliated_?"

"Screw you, Malfoy," she hissed.

He raised his eyebrows. "You already have."

Hermione recoiled at the harsh words.

"You're absolutely filthy. I can't believe you actually _thought_ that I wanted to sleep with dirt like you. It was kind of repulsive how _easy _you were, skank. And I thought you were smart, Granger. I _gave _you that, but apparently you're not," he said, shrugging nonchalantly. "You know what? You weren't even a decent fuck, you frigid awkward bitch. But I still bet Weasley will be scrambling to pick up the pieces won't he? Trash with trash. Fitting isn't it?"

She was seething. "You're sordid," she hissed.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "That wasn't what you were saying last night. I heard the filthy words come out of your mouth."

"And absolutely _vile_," she breathed.

A familiar sneer graced his features. "I guess it's appropriate. I am a snake after all," he said, shrugging.

"You're absolutely disgusting. You go crawling back after all that you've been through? After your parents abandoned you and after Voldemort left you for dead? And yet, why do I not believe a single word of it."

"What?" He murmured in shock, the haughty grin dropping.

"Why don't I believe a single word of what you've just said?"

He faltered. "I―I―"

Her amber eyes sought out his eyes that shone like rare, pale diamonds. "Please, don't lie to me, Malfoy. _Please_. Just tell me the truth."

Draco wavered, his resolution weakening and crumbling. No. He had to keep her safe. "I _am _telling you the truth, _mudblood_," the harsh words leaving his lips with finality.

Hermione took in a deep breath, eyes steeling. "Okay," she murmured, the energy draining out of her.

Draco nearly sagged in relief as he handed her the crumpled fire red leaf.

She simply shook her head. "No," pushing his hand firmly away.

His eyes furrowed. She should be angry, furious, hot-tempered and rash. Instead she was looking at him with those numb eyes again. The monster within him immediately recoiled, falling away back into the inner recesses of his mind. "Oh Granger, please, no," his voice cracked. The same numb eyes that had bored into him the morning after her parents died. The same morning he swore to Merlin that he would do anything to never see those eyes again.

She pushed past him with the ferocity of a rhinoceros and the timidity of a mouse. "I'm going back to my dorm to sleep."

Draco simply watched with wide eyes as she walked into the open of the grounds. She would be spotted any minute by the patrolling Snatchers.

His hands reached into his pocket to grab his wand. Bringing his wand tip up, he aimed it at nowhere in particular.

Cold sweat broke on his forehead. No, this should've worked. She should be _gone _by now.

She _had _to leave.

And with a panicked hand, he strode towards her before he uttered one word. "Stupefy," he said, barely above a whisper, a bright jet of red light shooting from the tip of his wand that rested in his clammy hand to her retreating back.

Hermione gasped before falling forwards with sprawling limbs, knocked out unconscious. Draco stepped to her side and placed the late autumn leaf in her hand, such a stark contrast, fiery red on creamy white. "I'm sorry, Granger. You need to be safe," he murmured, coarsely before standing upright once more. "_Salus_," he said firmly, his hoarse voice giving his emotions away. An eerie blue glow surrounded the leaf before spreading until it surrounded the entirety of her.

He stepped back and blinked, only to see the space in which she had recently occupied completely desolate.

"Farewell, Granger," he whispered into the open air.

_Come back to me._

_._

* * *

><p>.<p>

He didn't know how long he simply stood there, staring at slight snow displacements. The only indication he had left that she had been there moments before with _him_.

A vague shout could be heard in the distance and Draco was shaken alert.

He turned warily around to the source of the noise to find the billowing cape of Professor Snape.

"Good, you're here already. I'm just going to go over a few instructions when you get to your safe house. Ms Nymphadora isn't particularly the pleasant type. The second in which you arrive, mention my name and she'll understand," Severus spoke hastily as he hurried to the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Draco nodded blankly, watching as Snape scoured the forest floor, frowning.

"It's not here," the blonde murmured.

His godfather whipped up his head, pausing. "What did you say?"

The young Slytherin's lifted up to meet the beady black pair. "The portkey," he said slowly. "It's gone. Left without me."

Snape opened his mouth, dumbfounded. "Who did it leave with?"

Draco shrugged. "Not with me."

The greasy haired wizard took a moment to process this. "Are you _idiotic_?"

Draco merely shrugged once again before turning away.

"No, don't you dare, mister," Snape called. The blonde halted in his steps before facing him once more with despondent eyes. "Are you telling me that the portkey is just _gone_?"

The younger wizard simply stared blankly ahead.

"Are you _mad?_" Severus hissed. "I leave you alone for _one_ night and you managed to screw things up all by yourself. Something that took me _months _to arrange. You could've been gone by _last night_ if you had just listened to me instead of doing Merlin knows what. You think that I'm going to help you now? Well I _can't_. Things are far beyond my control now, Draco. War is coming and so is the Dark Lord. And _you'll _be stuck at Hogwarts when he comes for you. Why didn't you just listen to me, Malfoy? You selfish, ignorant―"

"Well, well, well," the Headmaster was interrupted by a weedy voice.

The two of them turned around to face another pair, both dressed in black, sporting maniacal grins on their faces.

"Look at that. It's a pureblood," the male spoke. "No halfblood has quite the shade of hair as that." Reaching forwards to thumb Draco's snowy white hair. "And quite such a shocking eye colour."

"Not just any pureblood!" The witch responded. "It's a Malfoy."

"Draco Malfoy?" The wizard raised his eyebrows. "What a _pleasant _surprise."

"Alecto and Amycus, please. Mr Malfoy and I were just leaving," Snape murmured politely, grip tight on Draco's shoulder.

"Ah, ah, ah, Severus," Amycus tittered.

"The Dark Lord has been expecting Mr Malfoy for quite some time," Alecto remarked, carelessly before an evil grin stole her face.

"A very, very long time," her brother agreed.

"It would be such a shame if Mr. Malfoy were to just, _slip _out of our grasp?" She simpered.

"I guess neglecting our duties is worth it to take the acclaimed Draco Malfoy to the Dark Lord?"

"I agree very much so, brother," she grinned, stepping forwards to clasp the blonde's forearm.

Amycus unfastened the cuff link to pull the robe sleeve high off his forearm.

"I'm assuming we'll be seeing you at the party?" She wheedled. "The Dark Lord would like to know how Mr Malfoy has disappeared from the face of the earth so easily to end up at Hogwarts."

"Shush now, sister," Amycus berated before a long, detestable finger was raised to be pressed reverently on the coiling dark, gaseous mass of the dark mark similar to the mark identical in shape on Draco's arm.

The blonde only felt excruciating pain radiating throughout his arm before being promptly whisked away into darkness.

He simply didn't care anymore.

**AN. Okay okay okay. We are SO GODDAMN CLOSE TO THE END MOTHER FUCKERS.**

**Right now, I don't even give a shit about reviews because the time frame is just pushing me past any writers blocks. ****But you know, a review or so would be nice to know that my writing til 3 in the morning despite the fact that I have my exams the next day isn't going to waste (:**

**My review goal for this story is 200 reviews but seeing as we have only 2 more chapters, 25 reviews per chapter is triple the amount I noramlly get so I'm happy with what I've got.**

**Love you all! and please R & R. It would really help me to get these last 2 chapters up in the next 14 days!**

**Oh and, I might be a tiny bit delayed with the next chapter as I'm taking a cruise for 3 days for my birthday so I won't be crazily typing down my ideas. Wish me happy birthday if you've survived that massive block of authors note text.**


	16. Disposition

**DISCLAIMER: You know the drill. JK Rowling owns all aspects of Harry Potter and this fanfiction is non profitable, written only for my own sick enjoyment.**

**Chapter 16; Disposition**

The lights were too bright. _Everything_ was far too bright.

And yet her eyes were still shut.

Hermione was vaguely aware of a stinging pain on her right cheek but that was the extent of any physical abnormalities.

However, mentally, each and every memory she'd harboured from the past few months seemed to be reversing back slowly, trickling in one by one, flashes of bright emotion and stark sensations, almost as if on rewind.

A heavy constricting hand seemed to wrap around her chest gradually as each time frame ticked back in time. One by one, frames of joy, sadness, anger, frustration flashed past her mind until it stopped. Right at the beginning. The day she first stepped into Hogwarts at the beginning of her 7th year, finally knowing and accepting that Harry and Ron weren't going to be by her side for this school year. The same tightly bound feeling on her chest that she was feeling at the current moment.

Betrayal stung throughout her entire body like a coursing river. She had no idea what to believe. Draco Malfoy was an enigma. He seemed so real yet so hard to touch. His lies blended seamlessly with reality and idealism. She remembered the words he'd thrown at her, water for each and every seed of doubt she'd had about him. She remembered walking away before he'd stunned her. He _abused _her.

_Mudblood_.

_Whore._

_Frigid bitch_.

The words cut like blades on her sensitive skin.

But the words showed her something she was beginning to lose sight of.

There was no room for people like Draco Malfoy during War. He was on neither side which meant he was essentially a hazard; a liability. A risk not worth having.

This was the way it was supposed to be.

That's what her mind was trying to tell her.

That she should just rewind. Reboot. And start over back to where she deserved to be.

Hermione didn't deserve happiness. She didn't deserve the days of contentment that Draco Malfoy had given her.

It was War.

She was meant to feel anguish and pain.

There was no room to fool around and pretend when the harsh truth was staring everyone in the face.

No.

She couldn't turn her back on the truth anymore. And the truth was that Hermione needed to accept that War doesn't bring people together, it tore people apart.

And Draco Malfoy showed her that.

And that was the end of it. He'd decided what he wanted and now, so did she.

She opened her eyes to the stark, bright rays of sunlight that reflected off of the sheer white snow and reflexively recoiled.

"Nymphadora! Come here!" A feminine voice called out from the distance.

Hermione's half-lidded eyes snapped open in panic.

"What is it Andromeda?" Another voice answered.

Hustling footsteps surrounded Hermione as she attempted to sit up, limbs shaking. Looking up with bleary eyes she saw two women hurrying towards her, long robes billowing in the gale of wind, one with shocking bubblegum pink hair and a very considerable swollen stomache and an older witch with warm, heartening eyes.

"Tonks!" Hermione exclaimed, voice raspy.

She reached Hermione first and was clumsily trying to pull herself up whilst bewildered words flew out of her mouth. "I had no idea. Absolutely no idea. Why would Severus send you? Hermione Granger. Harry Potter! Oh Remus is going to have a fit. Mom, could you…"

However, Hermione tuned out the minute the two witches had led her into the warm cottage that seemed to repel any lingering cold.

"Oh look! Remus is already here," Tonks greeted the bedraggled man with a kind-smile, meeting him with a kiss as Hermione looked away uncomfortably.

A hand was rested on Tonks' protruding large stomache. "All is well?" He murmured.

"Oh now, Remus. Everything is fine. Nothing to worry about!" She exclaimed jovially.

Hermione looked curiously at the pair and smiled. At least some people were happy at this time. "When are you due?"

The pair immediately turned around at Hermione's intrusion. Lupin's mouth was hanging open as Tonks smiled benignly. "In 3 months time."

Lupin seemed to shake out of his state of shock at Tonks' words. "Dora, is that Hermione Granger standing before me? Severus would surely not send her! Did you check?"

She shooed him off. "Yes, that is indeed Hermione and I have no idea why on earth Severus would send her here either. And no, I haven't checked because you were just fussing over me about the baby!"

He smiled wryly before turning towards Hermione. "In third year, when we were studying Red Caps, what was your first quoted sentence from the textbook you told me?"

Hermione furrowed her brows. "Avoid the Red Cap, a Dark dwarfish creature that lurks in places where blood has been shed and will attempt to bludgeon the unwary to death? Why?"

Lupin grinned, relaxing and stepped forwards to envelope her in a hug. "It's good to hear your safe."

She let her tense muscles loosen and unwind in their familiar presence. It was like family.

"Hermione, why don't you have some tea? It was quite the chill outside," Andromeda walked in with 4 cups and a teapot.

Hermione smiled but shook her head. "I would love to, but I need to start finding Harry and Ron. Do any of you know where they might be by any chance?"

Tonks shook her head as did Lupin, albeit a little cautiously. "Nobody's heard anything from them ever since they left Molly's," Tonks said.

Hermione sighed. "Its fine," she said dejectedly, shoulders slumping. "The UK can't be all that big."

Lupin eyed Hermione meaningfully before turning away to smile at Andromeda. "If it's okay with you and Dora, could I speak to Hermione alone please?"

"Of course," she nodded, smiling before dragging out the protesting pregnant witch.

The minute the door closed, Lupin began. "Now, I don't understand why Severus was reluctant to disclose your name. We thought that it was going to be someone we weren't going to particularly like however―"

"It wasn't meant to be me," she interrupted.

"I'm sorry?" Lupin questioned.

"Snape was meant to send someone else. But instead, I think they sent me instead of themselves."

"Why?"

"I don't know," Hermione stated.

"Who?"

"I can't tell you," she said.

Lupin raised his eyebrows. "You three are all secrets aren't you? First Harry and Ron refusing to tell us about their _mission_ and now you."

"You know about Harry and Ron?" Hermione's eyes lit up at the mention of her friends.

"No. Those two boys haven't told anyone anything."

Hermione's eager eyes faded once more.

"But what I _was_ going to say earlier was that I do know where they are right now," Lupin finished.

Her head snapped up, neck craning to look up at Lupin and mouth open in shock.

"I can see that you're a little surprised, Hermione," he chuckled, good-naturedly. The baby was really relieving the creased stress lines that arrayed his face.

"Surprised?" She said in bewilderment. "Of _course_ I'm surprised! Why didn't you tell me the minute I got here?"

"Dora doesn't know. She'd have a fit if she did. Everyone's been searching like crazy; in the ministry, at Hogsmeade. And I promised Harry and Ron to never tell anyone. They're the ones who showed me to make the most of what I had during War."

Hermione looked away guiltily. She was selfish. Spending her days at Hogwarts with Draco, someone who _couldn't be trusted _andrisking people's lives like Lupin, Tonks and so many others. And despite Voldemort abandoning him, she knew he would join his Mother and Father without a moment's thought if given the chance. They were his parents after all. And if he were to return, she would be the fool. No, he was _sure _to return. There was no question about it.

He'd chosen his path and Hermione Granger wasn't part of it.

Lupin was still talking animatedly. "6 months! Can you believe it!" He was exclaiming with wonder in his eyes. "I wonder if it'll be a boy or a girl. I've chosen Harry to be his godfather, he just doesn't know it yet," he said to Hermione knowingly.

"Erm," she tried to interrupt him.

"We're painting the nursery. Andromeda, Tonk's Mom is helping too. We're thinking blue and yellow…"

"Lupin, I―" She tried once again.

He shook himself out of his reverie. "Oh, right of course, Hermione. Time is of the essence. The last I saw of them was a few weeks back, but they were staying at Grimmauld place."

Hermione's eyes widened.

"I was shocked too when I found the pair. A mess they are, but alive. Thank god, they're still alive. Ironic isn't it? That we've got the entirety of the Order searching for their whereabouts and they'd been hiding right underneath our noses. I―"

"Thank you, Lupin," she cut him off short. "I really should be going."

"Oh, of course!" He smiled once again. Tonks and the baby were truly making him far happier than the moping professor she'd known in third year.

Hermione smiled sadly, wondering if they would make it through the War. The pair would want to fight, naturally. "Give Tonks and Andromeda my best wishes," she said, hand reaching into her pocket to make sure her wand was still in place. "And thank you yet again, Professor."

He smiled a little forlornly. "I hope to see you again, Miss Granger."

Hermione smiled inwardly. "I'll see myself to the apparition point then," she said before hurrying out the way she came, only turning back once to see the affectionate smile of her old Professor.

The harsh breeze of winter and piercing snow fragments slit through her skin the moment she left the warm confines of the house and she focused on the pain, pushing away the swimming thoughts of the betrayal that Draco Malfoy had inflicted out of her mind.

He was her past now.

A forgotten chapter.

This is how it's meant to be. This was what she wanted from the very beginning.

She was a mudblood after all, a direct quote from Draco Malfoy himself.

She would only be faithfully supporting Harry now.

This was how it was meant to be.

This was disposition.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

The room was dank with rotten despair. Shadows lined the wall, cast by dishevelled figures in black cloaks.

Draco was at the Malfoy Manor. And that vile beast, barely human, was sitting in the armchair by the fireplace as if it were his own home.

"Ah, Alecto and Amycus, nice of you to join us," the slimy voice spoke airily. "And you've brought a guest!" He remarked.

Draco lifted his head up high, proudly, facing the sickly white face with bloodshot red eyes.

"Draco," Voldemort slithered. "It's been so long. I hope being on the run has been treating you well? Although I hear Severus has been _more _than welcome."

Snape lifted his head at the mention of his name. "My Lord," he said, almost as an apology and almost as praise.

"Severus," he repeated, turning towards the older wizard. "You've been particularly _hospitable _with Mr Malfoy haven't you?"

"My Lord, I can explain," he protested.

"Now, dear friend. No need to explain. I already understand. I can smell betrayal from a mile away."

"No!" Snape exclaimed. "Never, my Lord."

"Then why don't you entertain me?" Voldemort prompted.

"That night, I saw young Malfoy was still alive despite your excellent wandwork. I realised he could escape and consequently I took him hostage."

"He would've died from the cold and his injuries nevertheless. Either way Severus, why did you not bring him to your Master?" Voldemort threw back.

"My Lord, I knew you would kill him. He is the Malfoy heir after all," Snape attempted to cajole.

"And instead you decided to disregard my orders? Draco failed his mission, he was intended to be punished."

"My Lord. You assigned him a task that was impossible to complete. It was a waste of good blood. He is a valuable asset in the War and you threw him away."

Jeering laughs and comments that had spewed from others in the room hushed to a halt at Snape's blatant assessment and disagreement of Voldemort's orders. The silence rose to the air, swirling with energy and hunger for bloodshed. Nobody _ever _insulted the Dark Lord. _Ever. _

Snape closed his eyes, readying for a '_crucio_' at the least.

Silence built in silent crescendo as Voldemort looked at Severus with a contemplative gaze.

Finally, a long, crazed laugh sliced through the hushed silence like a thunder crack slicing through air. The laugh issued by the much feared man himself. "Ah, Severus. You've always been diligent haven't you?"

"My Lord."

"It is War after all. Young Draco Malfoy would be very useful, don't you think Lucius?"

A bedraggled, older version of Draco stepped out from the shadows with long matted, stringy hair. "Yes, my Lord."

"What do you say, Draco? Fight for me in the War? Join your proud parents? Forgive and forget?" The voice that seemed to slice like ice through Draco's veins prompted him.

The blonde looked stonily ahead at the wall. "Never," he hissed, grey eyes diverting to his Father.

"Ah, so young, so vibrant," Voldemort let out an unearthly chuckle. "Or I could kill you right now. Whatever you wish."

Draco's eyes refocused back on the eerie crimson red iris's that were Voldemorts. He would rather die. And die he would. He recalled her reckless dark locks of wild hair and piercing amber eyes that danced like fire. He would die with the best memory he ever had.

"Draco, please," a feminine voice called out to him, cutting through his memory as a dishevelled figure stepped out of the shadows to stand beside his Father. A witch with impossibly striking blue eyes and dirty blonde hair.

"Mother," a chocked whisper escaped his lips, barely recognisable as his own.

They were his parents after all. The two people who had raised him, that had nurtured him to the best of their abilities. Neither could be to blame for their treatment of him. They had been raised exactly the same. Neither had experienced happiness. Neither were given a choice to this life. Neither were Draco's grandparents who had raised his parents. No pureblood was given a choice. They were family in a sense that they had all suffered the same.

Besides, there was no other place for Draco.

Hermione Granger was his past. A past he needed to forget.

He was only grateful that she'd shown him something that he would never be able to find on his own. What it felt like to be happy for once in his life.

But happiness had no place in War.

Family served family.

Blood was thicker than whatever it was that intertwined the two.

"I will serve you, my Lord," he answered.

"Good boy," Voldemort hummed cheerfully in a disjointed manner. "See yourself out with your parents. Alecto, Amycus, you can return to Hogwarts."

Draco detached himself from Snape's side to stand beside his parents who held the door open.

"And before you go Severus," the voice turned menacingly cold and Draco halted in his steps. "The boy is _your_ responsibility. If he decides to betray me, he won't get a second chance, and neither will you. Understand, Severus?"

The submissive tone of Draco's godfather was all he heard before the mahogany door eased to a shut. "Yes, my Lord. I understand."

This was how it was meant to be.

This was disposition.

**AN. Short I know. But this chapter was just meant to be a linking chapter. I just wanted to show you each person (Hermione and Draco) going back to their respective sides, where they're meant to be and forgetting one another because they're from stories vastly different from one another.** **Anyway, I liked the idea of disposition and how it's something you can't change. How it's your frame of mind, almost your _nature_.**

**Whatever, I hope you got that.**

**Merry Christmas to all of you and have a happy new year! I am HOPING that I will be finished with the next chapter maybe a few days before the end of the year so I might be able to write an epilogue to tie things up before the new year but we'll see (: **

**Please tell me what you think about this chapter; good or bad. It's the home run guys. whoop whoop!**


	17. Clarity

**DISCLAIMER: JK Rowling is the sole owner of the Harry Potter franchise and this story is non profitable in any manner because when it comes down to it, I am just a 16 year old in my bedroom writing fanfiction about fictional characters. But that doesn't make Draco Malfoy any less hunky dory aye?**

**Chapter 17; Clarity**

_Late spring, 1997_

Hermione closed her eyes, other senses on high alert. She was standing in an abandoned corridor. Well, what was left of it.

Her hearing sharpened, each and every infinitesimal shift of air registering with her. She could feel the vibration of floundering footsteps on the floor below; hear the distant melodiously melancholy tune, morphed by water, of the merpeople beyond the bellows of nearby assailants and predators.

Her body stood still, relaxed yet stiff, poised for action, knuckles white around her wand.

She didn't need to look for attackers. They would come to her.

Hermione knew that if she were in the thicket of the battlefield she wouldn't stand a chance. She was short, small, easily crushed by the constant pull and tug of bodies.

So instead, she waited in an abandoned corridor waiting for her victims to come.

None of them would be killed unless necessary.

Only put on a permanent body bind that Harry had taught her. A spell that could only be reversed by the caster.

A small collection of wands were in an inner pocket of her jacket and grim satisfaction was the only emotion she would feel each time another body came floundering to the floor.

Her eyes flickered open at a sudden vibration of movement travelling from the adjacent corridor. Eyes constantly scouting the space provided, Hermione raised her wand.

It was eerily quiet. Calm, with the only evidence of disturbance being the barely tangible shift of air and the faint tap tap tap that only expensive, custom made Italian leather shoes could make.

Let's just say she'd heard the sound before.

Of an arrogant, insolent, pureblood hypocrite.

"Crucio," the figure rounded the corner and a vicious red jet of light emanated from the wandtip.

Hermione easily sidestepped the curse and within a beat fired off harsh whispers of a circuit of spells she'd perfected throughout this restless night, easily slipping into a rhythm.

"Confundo, diffindo, impedimenta, rictumsempra, stupefy," she murmured at a steady beat, a melodic lullaby. A protego here and there to reinforce her shield charm whenever it fell.

They were harmless spells really. They were more to distract the attacker rather than to clinically injure. None of the spells were actually intended to reach its destination. Merely to let the assailant grow tired until a telltale spell hit her target and Hermione would place the reinvented body bind spell on them.

It was quite frivolously boring in fact.

The irony would ring clear to her later.

If one were to minus the dark spells that flew dangerously close, it would almost be as if she was simply practicing in class.

Until the moment where Hermione's breath caught in her throat as a deep gash sliced through her right cheek and she nearly coupled over in its searing pain. She'd had enough petty shallow cuts and burns to tell her that she shouldn't get complacent but the sheer agony of this cut seemed to glide over her entire right side of her body like molten lava.

Dark magic.

Obviously.

She'd learnt not to underestimate her opponents.

But at that moment of hesitation from her, that moment when she ducked her head, losing focus, losing concentration, a deceptively soft hiss of magic hit her left side and she nearly gasped as pain radiated from that area.

She looked down and saw the fabric of her jacket and shirt had been burnt away to leave a blazing red burnt welted skin with a faint blue glow radiating off.

Hermione fought to stand upright, leaning onto the wall of the narrow corridor for support as panic consumed her.

It was eerie how fast she could fall from a position of power to a position of weakness.

No, she was _not _going down like this. She _could not_ be going down like this.

She raised her head to find the Death Eater striding towards her with long leisurely steps. His wand flicked yet again and Hermione's wand flew out of her hand.

Another flick, and her legs gave out beneath her until she was slumped on the floor, wand only an arms length away.

She reached for her safety before a foot came crashing down on her outstretched arm.

Hermione refused to scream in agony as she felt excruciating pain searing from her forearm that he'd broken before it faded to an unearthly numbing fire.

"Pathetic," a coarse, aristocratic voice scoffed.

Her gaze shifted from his genuine Italian leather shoes to meet the eyes of her assailant, a pale green. The palest kind. The rarest kind.

Pureblood.

_Clearly,_ she thought bitterly.

A long, refined finger with close cut nails dipped to Hermione's chin, tilting it high up until her neck was exposed.

"What a lovely neck," the accented voice murmured. "Shame."

She wrenched herself away despite the pain.

A cold heartless laugh echoed along the deserted corridor and she shut her eyes; waiting for death. Death that she'd grown so ready to accept. Part of the contract for going into War perhaps. Being so ready to accept death so very easily.

And she hardly cared.

Because Hermione was already so numb to the world.

It was all his fault.

All his goddamn fault.

If he hadn't come into her life. If she hadn't had a taste, a taste of passion, a taste of fire, a taste of intoxicating delirium, she wouldn't even have noticed how utterly tedious her life was.

Because once you've tasted the flame, everything else pales in comparison.

And she tried to ignore it. Tried _so _goddamn hard. And Hermione Granger was not one to give up, easily. Hermione Granger was not one to accept that things were out of control.

Months had passed, but with each passing day, the burning to feel that same sensation only built.

Hermione Granger _had _lost control.

And it was _all_ his fault.

"Crucio," the voice slithered.

And instantaneously, the pain of a thousand deaths came running throughout Hermione's body in waves as she collapsed to her hands and knees.

Her lips were clamped shut, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing her scream as her body writhed unnaturally, aimlessly trying to escape the torture.

"Oh, the little freedom fighter won't scream?" He crooned.

Hermione's forehead beaded with sweat, the words fading into the background as she fought not to pass out.

"I guess I'll have to try a little harder won't I?" He chuckled. "_Crucio_."

And another wave of agony crashed throughout her body like knifes on her insides as Hermione let out a pent out, cursed scream that tore past her throat, escaping her lips.

"That's a good girl, darling."

She choked on another scream, a salty tear running down her cheek and landing on the hazy floor before her.

"Still trying to protect your dignity? Let's see if we can get one more scream out of you, Princess before I kill you."

Hermione froze at the word.

Princess.

Princess.

Princess.

And it all came rushing back. Like a tidal wave ready to consume her; a tidal wave washing away the brutality of the agony.

"Crucio," he said malevolently and with a flick of his wand, she was rushing back through the waves of pain, her mind going foggy, details becoming cloudy and the expensive custom made Italian shoes fading away.

_Princess_, a voice seemed to whisper. Carrying through the air.

Princess. Princess. Princess.

"Oh," she forced the word out. "NO," the word came out easier. "You _DON'T_." And with that final word, Hermione's pulled herself away, distancing herself from the still ongoing pain and instead focusing on the magic that radiated throughout her veins.

Her hand shook with agony and power as she lifted it with great effort and with one great absolute surge of blinding power, she forced the magic out of her hands, propelling it as it shifted into a materialistic form before launching itself at her attacker.

She watched as he flew away from her, hitting the opposite wall with a thud.

Hermione immediately scrambled up against the wall with weak limbs, attempting to pull herself upright before he got up again.

She staggered along the dewy stone wall, panic rushing through her veins, long locks of her hair falling out of her ponytail and hanging in front of her eyes.

However, before she could even collapse from her now burning injuries, the dreaded voice came.

"Leaving so fast?"

She halted in her steps, panting for breath, limbs shaking. Hermione slowly turned around to meet the daunting mask of the Death Eater. "Kill me," she said, steadily and resolutely.

The uncovered lower half of his face curled into a detestable smirk. "My pleasure, _Princess_."

Hermione closed her eyes and let herself drift away. Death would be a relief to the endless tortured days and nights that consumed her mind. Questions.

Mostly questions of _him_. The boy with snowy hair.

Questions on his loyalty.

Only that it really wasn't a question.

She _knew_ that he had returned to his rightful side.

Questions on how he perceived her. What she meant to him. If she meant anything at all.

Questions she would never see the answer to.

Her eye lids flickered to a definitive shut as she remembered everyone she had ever loved.

"Mom, Dad. Harry, Ron," she murmured in a hushed whisper. And finally, "_Draco_."

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

His breath came in short pants as his legs strode uselessly across the grounds, across the corridors, through the rooms, all over Hogwarts; searching in vain.

He needed to give her up. He knew it. He knew that she'd already given him up.

He was _meant _to have given her up.

That didn't mean he didn't think of her during the lonely nights in an empty lumpy bed.

He just needed to make sure she was safe. That she was okay.

Just one last thing.

And he would forget about her.

Forget about the relentless burning desire that was for and only for Hermione Jean Granger.

He trekked back up staircases of the castle, rounding corners, looking behind hidden tapestries, stalking impatiently through abandoned corridors; all the while holding onto his wand tightly, ignoring the stream of deadly curses that would sail millimetres past him whenever he met a defiant Order member.

He knew she couldn't possibly be in the thicket of the battlefield. She wasn't stupid. Only the idiots fought there. But if she wasn't there, where _in Salazar's name _was she?

He was striding carelessly along the balcony above the 7th floor corridor before he heard a long, pained scream.

With every intention to ignore, he continued walking until a very familiar voice drifted up towards him.

"Oh. No. You. Don't!" A forced voice shouted.

A voice so familiar it was almost second nature.

A voice that he would recognise despite how hard he tried to forget it.

He swore and ran back.

"Fuck," he whispered to himself, throat constricting as he looked at her wild brown locks spilt across the floor.

She was there. Right _there_.

With only a mere few metres between them.

His breath became erratic, hands shaking, wanting only to jump down and hold her one more time.

And all the memories; the emotions, the sensations, the pure unadulterated longing came rushing back like a tidal wave, tugging him into the abyss of delirium.

Oh Merlin, he wanted her.

It had been _months_. Fucking _months_.

How he had survived without _this _seemed impossible. How could he have spent _months_ without her touch, her voice, her guidance?

"Mom, Dad. Harry, Ron. _Draco_."

The blonde's eyes snapped back into to focus and pulled away from just the image of her, his eyes surveying the corridor.

She was slumped against the wall, hair spilling, matted with blood and a wide, horribly deep gash on her cheek, spilling crimson blood, smearing across her fair skin. A hand was placed on her side with charred fabric hanging off and a terribly daunting blue glow emanating from behind her hand.

And right before her, stalking menacingly was a Death Eater.

And not just any Death Eater.

The fucking douchebag Parkinson.

Who was rather ... _particular_ about how he vocal he liked his women.

Draco had seen firsthand.

The fringes of his vision clouded as he saw the filthy wizard, disguised as a prim and proper wealthy man raise his wand to point directly at Hermione's closed lids.

Draco swore again.

It was as if she was begging for death.

The blonde tore his gaze from her. He would not get involved. He would not get involved. He would not get involved.

He needed to _forget _her. She was his past. She was _not _his future.

But a cold slithering voice sliced through his resolve. "Avada―"

Fuck it.

And he jumped from his vantage point on the balcony to the floor.

His legs shook as he landed, his limbs trembling from jumping off at such a height.

Noah Parkinson turned around at the thud of Draco's shoes hitting the marble tiled floors, wand moving to meet the blonde's neck.

Draco's eyes widened in shock before realising that he was still wearing his Death Eater's mask. His hand came down upon the wand pressed tightly against his throat and lowered it deliberately.

He looked straight into the eyes of the vile man before him who was visibly relaxing after noticing that Draco was on his side. Draco smirked and uttered a quick spell underneath his breath, barely above a whisper.

And the lecherous creature crumbled to the floor.

Hermione's eyes fluttered open and Draco nearly choked on his breath.

Fuck he missed her.

"Just kill me now," her voice sounded out strong and valiant.

He chuckled lowly in wonder and stepped forwards, ready to envelope her within his arms.

"Don't touch me, you cold hearted bastard," Hermione said, flinching away from him.

He paused and shook away any signs of emotion. She didn't know who he was. She saw only his mask covering his features. She thought he was just another Death Eater who was about to take advantage of her. Albeit, he _was _a Death Eater but the burning hatred that coursed through her eyes sliced through him like icy venom.

So instead of crushing her into his body, he shrugged and turned away.

It was better this way.

He'd already seen that she was alive. That was all he'd wanted.

It was all that he had promised himself. One last look.

It would have to be enough.

Hermione slumped in relief against the wall at the young man's retreating figure, hardly caring at why he'd decided to turn away from her but she could scarcely even decipher her surroundings, not when her injuries burnt like lava.

A breathy moan escaped her lips, her eyes screwing up painfully as she attempted to crawl along the wall in vain.

Draco staggered to an immediate halt.

He would _not _turn back.

Would _not_.

She would be fine.

Shouts and screams pierced the air like blades, the familiar cries of War and destruction. A destruction that demanded to be recognised. Destruction that wasn't only inflicted on the castle, on the grounds, but also on the people. A type of destruction that tore through hearts. And what for? What were they fighting for?

Because there will come a time when human kind will cease to exist. There was a time before organisms with conscious thought and there will come a time after. So what was the point in wasting time in tragedy when it could be spent in ecstasy?

He'd never asked for this.

All he fucking wanted was her.

He never wished for this life.

He never wished for War.

He never wished to be so damaged.

He never wished the _world_ to be so damaged.

He never wished for _so_ many people to die.

He never wished, nor asked, nor wanted.

He wondered, whether if he had met the very same Hermione Granger in a different lifetime, would things have been different? Would he have been able to have her? Have her the way he wanted to?

But the thing was, if he _had_ met the very same Hermione Granger in a different lifetime, she wouldn't be the very same Hermione Granger he knew now, and he himself wouldn't be the very same Draco Malfoy he was either.

Because it was his experiences that had shaped who he was today and so too was it true for Hermione.

His identity wouldn't be the same and neither would hers.

That Draco Malfoy would certainly not as damaged as he was now. Hermione Granger would never stand so strongly for elf and other magical creatures rights because she would not be discriminated against in the first place for being a muggleborn.

Albiet, it _was_ Hermione fucking Granger, she would still be insufferable and infuriatingly good.

The War and everything before had shaped them in ways that they could not control. Life and death blurred with time but one thing always remained certain.

Death is inevitable.

Life is precious.

But life is only precious because we die.

A strangled sigh ghosted through the muffled screams in the distance and reached Draco's ears.

He hated knowing that she was in pain.

And even more, he hated himself for letting her remain so.

"_Fucking hell_," he cursed to himself before swiftly turning around to hurry to her side.

Hermione sensed the figure before she felt his touch. "Get away from me!" She coughed, angrily.

Draco rolled his eyes. She was always incurably frustrating.

His hand reached for her wrist, pressed to her side and tugged her hand away as she writhed against him.

Charred fabric gave way to blazing red, welted skin.

He cursed under his breath before immediately falling into a rhythm of healing spells.

Hermione whimpered as her skin felt like it was being ripped off raw. "What are you doing?" She stammered.

Draco continued reciting spells without hesitation, brow furrowing in concentration.

"Fuck," he murmured, pausing, the blue pulsating glow refusing to fade away.

The brunette caught hold of her breathing and sneaked a look down.

Miraculously, skin was replacing the charred mess earlier, yet the young man on his knees never stopped casting charms.

Draco racked his brain for more charms, the spells he'd been practicing for so long that they almost came as second nature but he could feel the steady rush of air from her lips at regular intervals against his cheeks causing his hands to shake and his words to stammer.

Hermione sighed in relief as the pain began to lessen, relaxing into methodical spells of the stranger.

Draco easily healed the jagged, deep cut that ran from her right cheek, down her neck and straightened up, moving away from her welcoming warmth that he wished so much to simply envelope himself in.

Hermione's eyelids flickered open after drifting shut and pushed herself up against the wall, revelling the seemingly perfect state of her physical appearance. No cuts, no burns, no bruises. All seemingly perfect.

"Am I healed?" She whispered, questioningly.

He nodded.

Hermione furrowed her brows in confusion. "Why?"

Draco shrugged. _Because he needed her alive_. _He fucking _needed. _Because he hated her in pain. Hated seeing her suffer. Hated seeing her weak. Because he needed to see her alive at the end of all this. Despite the fact that he tried so hard to just forget her._

She narrowed her eyes. There was something eerily familiar about the figure standing before her. "Do I know you?"

His eyes widened in surprise. Hand reaching for his snowy white hair. His mouth opened to reply but the sound of distant footsteps rumbled against the stone floor, sending vibrations through the corridor interrupted him.

So instead of murmuring sweet words to her, he retreated.

Eyes raking her face once last time, he tore his gaze away and strode purposefully back along the corridor, away from her.

Hermione squinted her eyes in the shadowy darkness lit only by a few hovering candles that still survived through the rubble.

Hair that shone like silver. A stride that no one could match. And eyes that burnt like liquid mercury. Impossible to forget.

She blinked and he was gone. Gone. Blending seamlessly with the shadows.

She shook her head.

It must've just been a trick of the light.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Draco rounded the corner and immediately ducked behind a tapestry as loud, rumbling footsteps fell on the marble stone floor, echoing far and wide.

_Idiots_, he thought. Anyone within a mile would be able to hear those bumbling footfalls.

He stole a glance to see a shock of red hair rushing by. "Obviously," he muttered underneath his breath.

Vague murmurs could be heard on the adjacent corridor. They'd evidently found her.

Draco sighed. He didn't know if he was relieved or disappointed.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

"Hermione! There you are!" Ron exclaimed as Harry stowed away the Marauders Map.

"Oh thank god. We were worried. The Marauders showed 2 deatheaters with you," Harry said, giving her a firm hug.

She laughed in relief for a familiar face. "Who were they?"

"Mr. Parkinson and Draco Malfoy," Harry answered.

Hermione choked in mid-laugh. "What?"

"It was probably nothing, right? You're fine, aren't you 'Mione? We gotta get going now. Harry knows where the last horcrux is, don'tcha Harry?"

"Ron's right. We need to get going," Harry agreed.

She nodded, dazedly, blinking rapidly. "Where are we going?"

Harry's mouth formed a grim line. "The shrieking shack. Voldemort and Nagini are there."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Is that it? Is Nagini the last horcrux? And then this will all end?"

Harry nodded, eyes focused and ready.

"Then let's get going," she stated, pushing the swirling thoughts of Draco Malfoy out of her mind. It didn't matter. _He _didn't matter anymore. This was about Harry and Voldemort.

At least Hermione knew one thing for certain.

He was a Death Eater after all.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

He heard the footsteps retreating and Draco released a breath he didn't even know he'd been holding.

She was going to fine now.

She was with Potter.

That was hardly reassuring as he was the very same wizard that the Dark Lord was trying to find but he forced himself to believe that she was going to be perfectly safe.

She _had _to be.

Fuck, why did he do that? He was meant to forget her. He didn't deserve someone as good and selfless as her. He had no immeasurable quality, no chink in his armour, no cute selfless side, none of the characteristics that everyone wanted. He was just Draco. Simply Draco. He was he and he couldn't change it. And Hermione Granger was Hermione Granger. He didn't deserve her. And he had to let her go. Forget about the burning sun that was she and merely watch from a distance, appreciating the true magnitude of her.

And yet, despite all his resolutions, despite the resolves, despite the brick wall he'd constructed in his mind, he could not and _would not _forget her.

He couldn't help the impulsive pull of gravity that was Hermione Granger which was completely impossible to ignore. He could not ignore the aching in his heart that could only be relieved by seeing her and he could deny it no longer. He was feeling so incredibly empty that he had to acknowledge it.

So he followed her.

Just to make sure.

Just to make sure that she would get out of this alive. Even if he didn't.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

"Severus, do you know _why_ the Elder wand isn't working for me?" A deathly hiss emanated from the room.

"I don't understand, My Lord," the greasy haired black wizard murmured in response.

"It's okay, Severus. The question is quite simple. Why isn't the Elder wand working for me?"

Snape blinked in rapid succession, hesitating. "You've demonstrated tremendous power with this wand, My Lord."

Voldemort chuckled unnervingly. "I _have_ tremendous power. This wand is no different from the rest."

"I'm sure that it will not fail you when Potter comes," Snape replied quickly. "…My Lord."

The powdery white skinned wizard shrugged. "Hush. You're merely entertaining me. Do you know why this wand is no different from the rest?"

"No. My Lord."

"Because the Elder Wand only obeys it's Master. Do you know why I am not the Master of this wand?"

Snape gulped low in his throat. "I―"

"Because I did not kill Albus Dumbledore!" Voldemort interrupted. "The Elder Wand follows the wizard who killed its last owner, Albus Dumbledore. _I _did not kill Albus. Do you know who did?" He questioned.

Severus hesitated. "I―I did. My Lord."

Voldemort chuckled humorously, the arctic cold sound reverberating against the dilapidated walls. "You've been a good servant, Severus. But only I can live, forever."

"My Lord, I―"

"I'm sorry, Severus." He didn't sound sorry at all. "Don't look so betrayed. Consider this your early punishment for when that swine of the young Malfoy boy deceives me again."

"My Lord. Please―"

"Nagini. _Kill_."

Hermione fought the urge to scream as her Headmaster slammed violently against the opposite glass wall and was attacked repeatedly by vicious, absolutely brutal clawing of the great snake's fangs.

She screwed her eyes shut, hand finding Ron's clammy one.

No death was ever fair.

No matter how apparently justified.

She leant her head on Harry's curled spine as they huddled in the tunnel, refusing to believe.

And the worst part was. Nobody, nobody except the three of them, would ever know Severus Snape died that night. They would assume of course. They might find his rotting body in days, months, years to come. But did anybody care? He would just be another death to add to the list. A list as long as its mourners. Severus Snape would just be another name lost in the crowd. And frankly, nobody deserves that, no matter how deserving they were of death.

Why was it that Aristotle and Cleopatra are more remembered than that boy John who lived down the street?

They were all human. All the same essentially.

Why was it that Shakespeare will be forever immortalised whilst other 'ordinary' people are forgotten?

They say that a person has two deaths. One when they die, say choking on their own vomit, and once when their name ceases to be uttered.

She barely noticed the loud rip of space that resembled a screaming vortex of complete terror signalling Voldemort's departure.

Harry rushed out from their crawly space immediately and instantaneously began tending to the Headmaster.

Hermione's shoes crunched on shattered glass, lying broken on the ground.

"It's too late, mate," Ron murmured.

"NO!" Harry shouted. "It can't be!"

"Look, he's dead. People die."

"No. No. NO. _NO!" _He roared. "You don't get it do you? He's never going to come back!"

"Yeah. He's dead," Ron shrugged. "Don't work yourself up about it."

"He's _dead, _Ron. _Dead. _Like that. With the snap of a finger. So easily. So quickly."

"I know, mate. Just breathe. You never liked him that much anyway," the red-head attempted to console.

"It doesn't matter if I didn't like him that much. It's not _fair_. Not fair that someone can just die like that. That someone can die _against_ their will."

"Everyone's gotta die against their will, Harry."

"No. It's just. How…" Harry paused in contemplation. "He was healthy. He was perfectly fine, physically and mentally. But his _life_ was _taken_ away from him by someone else. How can we have the power to do that? How can we have the power to_ chose_ when someone dies?"

"Plenty have died before him," Ron answered.

"But that doesn't change anything! I understand that we're all insignificant beings with no power to change the course of the universe. But it is still a _life_. A life just as vivid as yours and mine."

"Mate…"

"I failed. I didn't kill the snake. I didn't kill it. I didn't kill it."

"Harry, there'll be another time," the red head patted his back as the boy who wore lightning bolt scar leaned against the dilapidated, creaking wall.

"It doesn't matter! We'll have to wait again. We'll never have gotten a chance like that. And while we're waiting for another chance to kill the goddamn stupid snake, people are _dying_. Real _people_. Just like you and me and 'Mione. Living lives full of colour and brightness. Who experience the same emotions and sensations as us, with thoughts and memories. Who look at us as just another background character in their life like we do them. People like Snape. People like Sirius. People like Lavender Brown of all people. I _failed _them." He buried his head in his arms, leaning heavily against the wall. "I don't think I can do this. I _know_ I can't do this."

Hermione finally opened her eyes, pupils dilating to accommodate for the darkness of the room. Her eyes focused on the shadows and looked down at the now lifeless body of her professor.

Gruesomely vicious slashes of skin marred the pale skin of Severus Snape and she choked on a sob.

No one was meant to die in such a brutal manner.

An abnormality of the shadows caught her vision and she tore her eyes away from the horrific mess that War left behind.

A word.

A word was scratched into the soft, pliable wood, damp from moisture.

A word barely decipherable by its scrawly nature and the darkness.

But Hermione read it anyway.

"_Always."_

"Hermione?" Ron questioned.

She looked up in surprise. "I'm sorry what?"

"I thought you said something," he murmured, confusedly.

She blinked rapidly. "Oh sorry. I must've said it out loud." She looked down at where the word was scrawled on the floor with bare fingernails and noticed a glimmering bottled test tube caught in a crack of the floorboards.

Or more like the substance that swirled within the test tube was glimmering; a mist-like substance with a silver sheen. Hermione was suddenly reminded with the consistency and colour of Draco's eyes.

She quickly shook the thought from her mind.

Yet, she was baffled on why he would have possibly healed her.

But she would ponder on those thoughts later. _After_ the War.

If she survived at all that was.

She bent down to pick up the test tube and observed the swirling mist. "Harry, come here."

The ragged boy removed his head from his arms and pushed himself off the wall to stride towards Hermione. "What is it?"

"I think Professor Snape left something."

Harry took the bottle from her shaking hand as she refused to look to the disfigured, mutilated body lying on the floor. "Memories," he murmured.

"_Always,"_ she replied.

"What?"

"I think he left the memories for you."

Harry looked at her in confusion. "But why?"

"Just take it, Harry," she sighed, wearily. "Maybe you'll see why."

He pocketed the swirling mass of mist in his robe.

"Go," Hermione said.

"I'm sorry?" He questioned.

"Go. To Dumbledore's study. Look at Professor Snape's memories. And then go find him, Harry. Find him. Find the snake. Find them, and kill them. We'll be right behind you. It's time to end this."

"I―I―can't" He stuttered. "I told you. I don't think I can do this."

"Yes you can, Harry. You want to end this just as much as we all do. Don't let Professor Snape dying make you think any differently of yourself. You haven't failed them, you haven't failed _us_. Instead, let it be a reminder that you _have_ to try end this _now_, before it's too late. You think you can't do this? Well I'm here to tell you that even if you can't, you have to try. I certainly don't believe in destiny and I think Dumbledore is absolutely crazy but despite everything, I think you can do this. I _know_ you can."

"Hermione," he croaked.

Her eyes filled with tears. "Meet at the Hagrid's hut in an hour and together we'll bring him down. Ron and I will go back to fight the War on the grounds. Five horcruxes down. One to go. You can do it Harry."

Hermione's hand caught Ron's and she led him out of the shrieking shack, back up the tunnel and through the Whomping Willow's roots.

"Is he going to be alright?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Harry knows what he has to do. Just give him some time to clear his head. I don't think he's in the right place after Professor Snape's death."

"'Mione, what if he doesn't meet us at the Great Hall entrance in an hour. What will we do then?"

Hermione shook her head. "He will. He's wanted to do this since he found out that Voldemort killed his parents. You heard him. He's torturing himself already just because he wasted time and lost lives. He's just losing faith in himself."

"No, that's not what I meant," Ron murmured as they headed to the grounds, wands at the ready. "What if he goes to the Forbidden Forest to meet You-Know-Who on his own?"

"I―" She was lost for words, her hand clamped tightly against Ron's, sweaty with anxiousness. "Let's hope he doesn't."

They walked with long loping steps across the grounds, hand in hand, the other gripping their wands with nervous anticipation.

Shouts and screams could be heard in the distance but neither knew how close they truly were. They walked, squinting through the low hanging fog that hindered their vision. Neither Ron nor Hermione could see more than 2 feet in front of them. The fog was eerily prophetic. It was as if it had eyes. As if it was leading them to either their death or their glory. As if it could see each and every wanderer and guiding them along to their respective fates. As if it was shielding those that needed to be protected and aiding those that were waiting to attack. Their shoes crunched on the grass; deafening in the ghostly silence.

"Should we have left him alone? He is the Chosen One after all. What if someone finds him and kills him?" Hermione whispered restlessly, voice echoing across the seemingly empty expanse of open land.

"'Mione, you worry too much."

She was about to respond when her foot meet a resistance.

Hermione frowned and looked down.

Several wisps of flog clung to the dewy ground but she recognised the obstruction immediately.

Her breath was stolen from her lips as she froze, hand loosening around her wand.

No.

That couldn't be.

It couldn't be possible.

It _couldn't_.

She backed away in horror.

No. No. _NO._

This wasn't real.

It _had _to be a dream.

She backed away and hit another body.

Hermione fought the urge to scream, tears welling up in her eyes as her legs trembled.

"Tonks, _no_, please no," she murmured, knees bucking and collapsing onto the soft soil of the ground. "Please gods no, Lupin."

The two bodies lied only 2 feet apart, arms outstretched as if reaching for one another.

"No, this can't be real," her voice cracked, a single tear falling. "You loved each other! You can't be dead Tonks. Lupin, you have a son, please. Wake up. Just _wake up._"

Her voice hung in the deadly silent air, alone and abandoned like the two bodies of two lovers.

A sob tore through her heart and grief struck through her like lightning.

Gone.

They were _gone_.

Torn apart like loose thread.

A sacrifice to the revolution. A sacrifice for a world reborn.

But what was the point of a War with more casualties than survivors?

They thought they were slaves to Voldemort and the Dark Ages.

Instead, they were slaves to the War.

She could hear their phantom voices, their phantom laughs, their phantom whispers.

A life cut short, a life just beginning to flower and bloom.

How was it fair that witches and wizards alike died whilst others survived?

Her comrades, her _friends_. Voices that would never be heard again.

"Forgive me," she choked. "That I live and you are gone."

In years to come, they would speak of Tonks and Lupin, idols of the revolution. Invincible. Immortalised by their sacrifice to the War.

But she remembered Professor Snape and his untimely death.

Why was it that people would be more likely to remember Tonks and Lupin rather than Severus Snape who would be left forgotten?

There are too many deaths to remember. 106 billion to be exact. The number of people dead is more than 11 times of those who are alive. Yet only less than one billion are currently remembered and mourned. The rest are forgotten. Their accomplishments, achievements and legacy. Their bodies left to return to dust.

"Forgive me," Hermione murmured once more at the ice cold skin of Lupin, his heart long stopped beating. "That you are gone and I am alive. And I promise that no-one will ever forget you and Tonks for what you've done for us."

A tear rolled down her cheek to sparkle briefly, suspended in air, to only fall and return to the earth like Tonks and Lupin's bodies will soon do too.

Hermione remembered sitting beside the two watching the sun set on the beach. Tonks would always bring strawberries and would place the green tips on the sand like flowers. She's dead now. Lupin would always talk incessantly until the sun disappeared underneath the horizon where he would stop talking and breathe quietly. He's dead now too.

A sudden bright jet of light flew at the fringes of her vision to hit her left shoulder blade. Hermione hissed in pain, rolling back from the force. She scrambled back, searching wildly for her wand.

She must have dropped it. She swore beneath her breath, berating herself.

How _could_ she have been so idiotic.

It was War for gods sake.

And now, her only form of protection was hidden behind blades of grass.

Another vibrant light soared directly straight towards her vulnerable position on the ground.

Her hand came up as protection, wishing, attempting to materialise a wandless protego charm.

The spell hit an instant later as her pathetic shield charm fell, shattering and Hermione groaned at the impact.

All immediate thought of Tonks and Lupin faded from her mind as she was reminded that she could very much end up the same way.

"Ron. Ron! Where are you?" She yelled in panic, still not being able to see her attackers through the fog.

"Your boyfriend is long gone, girl," a northern inflicted voice chuckled sinisterly.

Another spell emerged from the fog and hit her chest, bringing along with it a sudden burst of destructive pain that scorched to her very core.

"Don't worry, lovely. We'll make this quick," her assailant sneered, stepping forth and emerging out of the opaque fog.

The curses and hexes flew out of the wand, one after the other until Hermione was curled up in a ball on the ground in pain, voices ringing in her head, hand searching uselessly for her wand.

"Aren't you a pretty one," he whispered grotesquely. "Pity."

Hermione whimpered, a tear sliding down her cheek as she bit down on her lip, refusing to utter another sound. She raised her head up proudly, eyes filled with a venomous glare. "I hope you're happy," she hissed through clenched teeth.

A terrifyingly sharp eyebrow was raised. "I hope you're happy too, love. You're the one who's going to die," he remarked. "Throw her in the lake."

Two more figures emerged from the fog.

_How many of them were there?_ She thought in horror.

A pair of rough hands clasped her forearms whilst another materialised coarse rope, binding her wrists and ankles together.

She struggled in vain, spitting, ignoring the stabbing pain of her wounds.

They dragged her along until she could feel damp, soft soil beneath her boots.

"Let me go, goddamn it," she snarled. "What? Aren't you powerful enough to produce a killing spell? You're just blundering idiots aren't you?"

They merely laughed and before Hermione could suck in a breath of air, she felt her heart drop as she fell. She cursed as she hit the icy water, like shards of ice piercing her skin. It didn't matter that it was halfway into spring, the black lake was unforgiving.

She heard laughter fading gradually into the distance as she sank, only to float back up again. Buoyancy, thank the lord. She didn't think she would love science as much as she did right then.

So instead, she was stuck bobbing against the ebb and flow of the faint lapping waves.

She could only sigh in relief for a second before a tight force other than the rope enclosed around her ankle.

Her eyes widened, struggling vainly as another strand hooked tightly against calf.

Hermione looked down and could see vague outlines of tangleweed pulling her inexplicably under.

_Fuck_.

She was sinking.

Sinking.

Inevitably sinking.

Underneath the surface, the light of the moonlight so far away.

Bubbles of precious air escaping her lips reaching for the surface that she could only see but not touch.

She tugged at the unrelenting yards of slimy seaweed.

Her mind grew foggy as she refused to breathe in the toxic lake water that would fill her lungs until she ceased to breathe.

She could _not_ die this way.

She had survived so much.

She needed so many answers.

She needed to know why Draco saved her.

She _needed _to…

And the boy with snowy white hair and mercurial grey eyes appeared in her hazy vision, complete with the familiar quirk of his lips.

Too late now.

She would be joining Lupin, Tonks and Snape soon.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

He emerged with a gasping Hermione, towing her along the sand bank until they reached dry land.

She spluttered, drinking in lung-fulls of air, her vision swimming as she fought the blackness encroaching at the fringes of her vision.

Draco merely watched as her water soaked locks of hair fell in messy waves in front of her face.

Merlin, why.

Why was she so irresistible even when drenched like this?

Hermione finally got the air circulating in her brain and looked up, teeth beginning to chatter as she shivered in the frosty, night air.

He sighed pinching the bridge of his nose.

He'd never wanted anyone this bad.

_Never_.

Fucking _ever_.

His hands shook as he watched her. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to fuck her. He wanted to hear her scream his name again. He wanted her to say something. He wanted her to argue with him like they never parted. He wanted her to forgive him.

"Who are you?" She stammered, looking up.

The fog momentarily parted and a ray of moonlight shone onto his platinum blonde hair, dripping from the lake water.

Oh she definitely knew who he was.

She would never forget.

A name that haunted her lips, a laughter that rang in her ears and eyes that invaded her dreams.

She couldn't forget even if she tried.

"Why did you save me?" She whispered, voice ashen. She didn't understand. She just _didn't_.

He was a _death eater._ And yet he saved her.

Twice.

_Why_.

His eyes flicker from her lips and to her eyes. "You just can't keep yourself out of trouble can you?" His voice sounded like music to her ears.

Draco lifted up his wand and took another out from the pocket in his robes.

"It's a little wet," he remarked, handing Hermione her wand.

She opened her mouth in surprise but before she could respond he was healing her wounds. _Again_.

She rolled her eyes. He'd be a rather good healer.

With the last brutal slash of skin mended he stood up, as did she. His eyes met her amber orbs.

Fuck, he had no idea when he'd see those again.

Her name was at the tip of his tongue but he couldn't.

She surely hated him.

Hated him for what he'd become. For being a coward and hiding on the safe side.

She looked at him earnestly and he wished to just rip off his stupid forsaken mask.

She was shivering, lips fiery red from the pressure she was biting on to them to keep her teeth from chattering.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak and his eyes immediately flickered to her lips. "Thank―"

"Screw it," he murmured.

And before she could stop him, his lips crashed violently onto hers, drinking her in, caught in a dimension where only _she _existed. Her lips moved with his as if by memory, frantic and bold. His tongue explored her warm, heated mouth, her taste intoxicating him as he inhaled her fragrance like an addict.

Merlin, he _was_ an addict.

With the addiction being _her_.

His body trembled as she invaded his senses, a lethal cocktail that left him gasping for air.

He made a sound trapped between a laugh and a groan, hands running up her sides, ignoring the wet fabric and concentrating on her vibrating warmth.

_Fuck_, he thought. How he'd missed this. How he'd missed _her_.

She was fumbling at his face, hands searching through his damp locks that with dripped water.

Her hand enclosed on the edge of his mask which was magic-ed on.

With a quick tug, she tore the mask off.

Draco's lips were ripped off of hers, his breath escaping in a loud exhale as he stumbled back, away from her.

"I knew it was you," Hermione said, steadily.

"Look, Granger, I―" He said reaching forwards to capture her lips once more.

"No," she said stepping away. "You're a _death eater, _Malfoy."

"Granger, please―"

"I don't understand," she sighed, defeated.

"I don't either," he murmured, proud shoulders slumping, biting the side of his lip.

"A _death eater_. And you still kissed me. You still saved my life. Why did you?" She murmured.

"I wanted to," he replied.

"You _wanted _to? Are you _mad?_" She cried out.

"I―"

"No, don't you dare talk. I need some answers. _Now_.You're the one who called me a frigid bitch. A mudblood. That you were using me. That you felt _nothing_ for me. And now you suddenly tell me that you _wanted_ to kiss me? That you _wanted_ to save my life? In the middle of a _War_. When you're a goddamn _death eater_."

"Granger, please―"

"Shut it, Malfoy. Why are you so infuriatingly confusing? I just don't understand you!"

She took a step closer and Draco could feel her harsh breath on his skin.

"Why are you doing all of this? You've already told me what you think of me. You've already _shown_ me. But why are you still carrying on like it's all a game while we're in the middle of a fucking goddamn War!"

She took another step closer and he could count the lashes of her eyes if they weren't so thick and clumped together from moisture.

_Fuck_, he loved it when she swore.

"Malfoy, why are you doing this to me? I love logical. But you're _not _logical. Choosing you was in no way logical. You're actions and words don't make _sense_. I'm a mudblood, Draco. You called me that yourself. You've shown me who I am. That I'm not someone who throws themselves at a pretty boy who can spin lies. But _why why why_ did you save my life _twice_. And _why_, did you kiss me just then?

"Why did you kiss me back?" He murmured, voice low.

"I―I―"

He chuckled low in his throat, the side of his mouth quirking up.

His gaze scanned the area around them, still wary. Always wary. What it was to be living.

His eyes fell on the lake he'd just dragged her out of and focused on the crystalline nature of the surface. The glittering lake shimmering in the pale moonlight, perfectly calm, the sharp smooth surface of the lake in faultless clarity.

Draco sucked in a deep breath, ignoring his freezing skin and instead focusing on the steady rise and fall of her chest.

"So you want to know my motives? You want to know the reason? You want to know why I saved you when I clearly don't give _shit_ about you?" He smiled deliriously. "Who knows?" He shrugged and he stepped forwards.

Hermione furrowed her brows together and took a step back warily. He merely chuckled in response.

"What is it like Hermione Granger? To not know the answer to everything in the universe? It must be terrifying wouldn't it?"

She narrowed his eyes at him unsteadily. "You're playing games, Malfoy." Hermione raised her wand until it was pointed directly at his throat.

He lifted his hands up to the air in defence. "Alright, alright, alright. I'll give you some answers lovely. But the answers many not necessarily be correct . Do you want to know why?"

She nodded with distrusting eyes.

"Well I've been thinking the exact same thing. Why the _fuck_ am I doing this. I've been giving myself excuses after excuses after fucking excuses and I'm left with absolutely nothing. Absolutely fucking _nothing._"

She blinked confusedly but refused to lower her wand. He chuckled lightly.

"Okay, Granger. Humour me for a second. Why do _you_ think I saved you and kissed you and saved you yet again well I clearly don't give a shit about you?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Tell me. Tell me what you think. Show me a glimpse of that voracious mind of yours."

She bit her lip hesitantly as his eyes surveyed her steadily. "Perhaps you're only looking out for yourself."

He tilted his head in intrigue. "Go on then."

"Maybe you're only using me. You saw a chance to have me under your life-debt so that in the off chance that our side wins the war, you'll have leverage on me as insurance."

He nodded approvingly. "I like it. The poor mislead Death Eater sees the light and saves the life of the Princess Hermione Granger, member of the Golden Trio."

She tilted her chin up in angry defiance at the lack of response. "Well?" She pestered.

He shrugged, refusing to speak.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "Well then, what else could there be?"

A corner of Draco's lip lifted up in amusement. "Who knows? Maybe I was working underneath higher orders; orders that your other little Death Eater assassins blundering around have no idea about. Maybe I'm meant to keep you alive because the Dark Lord has plans for you and Potter. The Weasley is obviously irrelevant. You could be bait. You could also give us vital information. Or maybe just a hostage to keep as a trophy when our side wins the War. All in all, it's not that particularly hard to believe."

She shook her head. "Even if you have gone back to the Death Eaters it's only to save your own hide. A Malfoy never works for anyone other than himself."

Draco grinned. "Touché."

"So? Tell me the truth then," she urged.

Draco sucked in a deep breath, ignoring his freezing skin and instead focusing on the steady rise and fall of her chest.

"You want the truth?" He said slowly and she nodded in response. "Okay. I'll give you another possibility. And I'm not even sure you've even considered this before because you are just truly too blind to see it. Just like how blind I was too. But I see it now and just maybe, you'll believe me. Or maybe you'll think I'm lying like you always do."

Hermione took a step towards him and he laughed bitterly empty to himself. His slate-grey eyes flickering up to meet hers, eyes burning with the same intensity of a wounded beast, brows furrowed, lips parted and sucking in harsh breaths between his teeth.

"You want to know why I saved you tonight? You want to know why I kissed you? You want to know why I'm acting the way I do? Maybe, Granger, maybe the truth is just that I simply can't stand the thought of you dead. Maybe I sent you away with that portkey not because I was a sadistic bastard and wanted to finish my business with you during the War when you were heartbroken but because I wanted you _alive_. Maybe I can't stand to see your rosy lips pale, your flushed cheeks cold as ice and your eyes faded to a dull grey. Maybe that I've been shadowing you for nearly the entire battle and it's been fucking _killing _me. Maybe it hurts me to see you hurt. Maybe I hate the idea of you cracking and failing underneath hostile wand point because I can't _bear_ to see you so fragile yet so strong while staring death in the face. Maybe the truth is staring you right in the face. Maybe I completely and utterly love you, Princess."

His lips snapped shut as he breathed heavily through his nose, hair falling and plastering onto his forehead.

Hermione's lips were parted in shock, it almost felt as if she were underwater again – it felt like she was suffocating, those mercurial eyes of his boring into her.

He sighed hollowly. "I can't believe I've rendered the famous Hermione Granger speechless."

She opened her mouth to speak but she didn't know what to say.

Draco chuckled harshly. "I understand. You don't feel the same." He shrugged, picking up his cloak from where he'd left it on the bank of the lake when he dived in, destroying the crystalline surface to save her. "I guess I'll see you on the flip side, Granger."

And he just walked away. He _left._

Disappearing in the fog, like an enigma, a ghost that was never here, blending seamlessly with the shadows and moonlight.

She looked back at the crystal clear lake once more, glistening in the pale moonlight. So clear, so transparent, just like the truth.

And she nearly collapsed with the sheer realisation.

Hermione Granger, completely and utterly loved him too.

But clarity struck her too late.

Hermione followed the route she had seen him take but she saw nothing, not a single indication of where he had gone. Gone into the fog.

He was gone.

She loved him.

And he would never know.

Hermione clenched her teeth. No. She would find him after the War. She _had_ to find him.

Draco Malfoy was no longer going to be a hopeless enigma of confusion.

He was going to be _hers_.

**AN: Well that escalated quickly. But I guess we shall never know. It is the end my friends. The end of a wonderful story. Well, I hope it was. Please tell me it was wonderful. I NEED YOUR APPROVAL.**

**An epilogue might be written if you want it _bad_ but it depends on my schedule. I will be writing more short fics though! Maybe less than 50,000 words unlike this one.**

**It's been nice writing this story. Please tell me what you think because I am incredibly insecure about my creations on public view.**

**Have a wonderful year!**

**xoxo jess.**

**AN REWRITE: OKAY. Seeing as you all started yelling at me for ending things at a cliffhanger and getting your knickers in a twist, I think an epilogue is in order. I already had an idea and it shouldn't be a blockbuster like this 10,000 word chapter so it'll probably take only a week or less to write (: **

**Now you can stop telling me to write an epilogue and instead ... tell me what you think of this chapter! (:**


	18. Epilogue: Okay

**DISCLAIMER: It's been 18 chapters so I guess you know it already. I own nothing in the entirety of this fanfiction other than my sick plot and even that is sometimes derived from songs, books and movies.**

**One more thing. The line, "... is a side effect of War" "... is a side effect of dying", is a quote from The Fault in Our Stars by John Green which I hope that you have at least heard about otherwise you're living underneath a rock. The original idea/quotes go something along the lines of, "the booklets said that depression might be a side effect of cancer but quite frankly, depression is a side effect of dying." Okay something along the lines of that, I don't specifically remember but the idea is repeated throughout the entire book and it sounded fantastic.**

**Epilogue: Okay**

_2 months later_

Hermione walked past vividly blooming freesias and crimson red carnations, the clean scent of freshly cut grass and jasmine in the air.

Narcissia Malfoy's extensive gardens that surrounded the Manor were oddly comforting for such a place.

It had been bloody 2 months.

_Two_.

It had taken the entirety of two months after Voldemort's death for the forces to 'retreat' from full fledged war and for the Order to be off red alert. An entirety of two months for the War to become small enough to be considered normal behaviour. But the War never truly ends, it just blends seamlessly with the primitive and inhumane behaviour that society accepts.

Voldemort might have fallen but that didn't mean he hadn't sparked an idea. An idea for a revolution. And an idea is impossible to destroy.

Impure blood was still considered the scum of the earth but there is no law against harbouring ideals and morals.

It wasn't the same violent War they'd seen that night that Voldemort fell.

They were days of darkness.

The days in which both sides wished for this madness to end.

The days in which nothing was certain and nothing was expected.

The days of darkness before the dark ideals of Voldemort and followers were small enough to ignore.

But the madness never ends. It only becomes regular life because regular life is just a toned down version of the War.

The War never began and it will never end either.

It had already been weeks since the _Dark Days_ had officially ended according to the Ministry and yet she was still being hustled about, never receiving time alone, tending to the fragments left. Stabilising the community, establishing contact with the rest of the magical world, speaking to the press, all infuriatingly boorish revolutionary acts to be made because she had to. And she should.

Hermione Granger hardly knew what she wanted anymore. She did what she was supposed to do because she was Hermione Granger and she was meant to be normal now. Everything was meant to be normal now. They were meant to return to their normal, relaxed lifestyles but how could she? When everything seemed so fickle in comparison?

The only thing that seemed to spark a flame in her comparatively numb ordered mind was the thought of the deceptively silent malfoy family, with one particular member in mind.

They seemed to have disappeared but she knew they were there.

They steered clear of the press and remained unnoticed through the chaos of rebuilding.

She'd only seen them once. Only once.

At the Wizengamot while Harry testified Narcissia's selfless act.

She attended all the hearings because she was supposed to.

How were others allowed to decide what she was _supposed_ to do and what she wasn't?

But it hardly mattered because there he was.

He'd stood there, the same snarky bastard she'd known all these years and absolutely unlikeable, completely unaware of how the people in the room would be determining his future.

She had every intention to vote against him seeing as he was being so bloody ungrateful until his eyes flickered over to where she had been sitting and his shoulders slumped for a second as his façade fell, brows furrowing, lips parted and teeth clenched before he stood up straight once more, the stormy grey eyes leaving her.

Hermione bit her lip anxiously as the door to the Malfoy Manor came into her view.

She wondered if he remembered her.

He had probably written her off.

He may not have been in the press much but she knew that he was far too busy to think about something as trivial as herself. He'd taken over the family business and was also working part time at the Ministry as well as at St Mungo's Hospital.

_He had a normal life,_ she thought, a faint smile on her lips.

She could only hope to god that he hadn't forgotten because she certainly hadn't.

Hermione pursed her lips firmly as she steadily knocked on the rich mahogany door.

Well, there was no backing down now.

Her hand shook in nervous anticipation. Maybe she hadn't thought this through. He was surely out, busy as he was. What if his parents answered the door? What if they laughed in her face? What if he refused to see her? What if _he_ laughed in her face?

The door suddenly opened.

Hermione's jaw dropped as a dishevelled platinum blonde appeared in the doorframe wearing nothing but black pyjama bottoms.

"_Granger?_" A hoarse voice said as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

Her eyes widened in surprise, gaze scouring his features like a drowning man gasping for air.

She inhaled a deep breath of fresh air before composing her features. "Hello Mr. Malfoy, are your parents home?"

Draco watched her incredulously, he must still be dreaming but she looked so fucking _real_ right there in front of her. So goddamn fucking _edible_, her hair messy and spilling over her shoulders with bright eyes framed with lovely long lashes. He would never have been able to dream such a creature with such detail.

"Well, my Fathers in Azkaban so I'm assuming that he is by definition 'out' but I'm presume you mean my other parent," he shrugged.

She remained implanted in her place, still waiting for an answer.

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, my Mother's out," he said, hand reaching for the door frame to steady himself.

Hermione nodded, blinking rapidly. "Okay," she breathed.

He would've smiled if he hadn't been so nervous.

Why was she here? Was she here for him? Did she come to tell her to forget her?

He didn't want to forget her.

He _never _fucking wanted to forget her no matter how much it pained him to remember.

And besides, she couldn't possibly be here for him. It'd been nearly 2 months. Well, exactly 2 months; not like he was counting or anything, it was just rather hard to forget. 2 months was an awfully long time to get around to talking to a person. 2 months was long enough for her to have forgotten about the time they'd spent together.

He noticed she was staring; staring rather hard at him. He shook away the thoughts and instead merely looked at her, pretending just for a moment that she was his. "Okay," he murmured in response.

Hermione bit her lip and nodded. "Okay," she said again, tense silence falling between them.

Draco couldn't help but chuckle low in his throat before brushing away loving thoughts. "Granger, what is it that you want because I have a bed to get to and all. Do you want me to leave a note for my Mother because…" He trailed off, brows furrowing in confusion. "Granger quit staring, it's unnerving. I think this is the longest I've gone talking without you interrupting me." He paused, surveying her for a moment. "Bloody hell, woman, are you alright? Look, I―"

And before he could continue his sentence he was cut off as Hermione came running the last few steps and launched herself in his arms.

He staggered back and leant himself against the wall as she buried her head into the crook of his neck, inhaling his fresh scent of clean laundry, morning dew and mint.

Draco tentatively wrapped his arms around her waist in surprise before inhaling a deep breath of her fragrance that seemed to burn through his nostrils and ignite his senses. He pulled her frame into his as a sound trapped between a laugh and a groan escaped his lips. She felt deliriously good. He smiled into her hair as he noticed the way that her jutting hips clashed into his upper thighs and how her chest collided with his ribs. Not two perfectly fitting puzzle pieces, but two rough pieces finding ways to fit and that was so fucking brilliant.

"After all this time, I don't think we've ever just hugged before," he murmured into her ear, smiling.

Hermione pulled away with a frown on her lips. "I don't suppose we have."

His stormy grey eyes locked on hers and she nearly looked away from the intensity of his gaze. "Granger, I'm sorry for everything. I―"

But he was interrupted by her seeking lips.

Draco groaned low in his throat before complying.

Her hands tangled in his feathery locks of snowy white hair as her nails scraped the skin at the base of his neck. He shuddered as her scorching lips coaxed something deep within him, rising and threatening to escape.

Hermione sighed as she embraced the feeling of his body against hers, lips parting and allowing Draco's feverish tongue to slip through.

Fuck, she was exactly the fucking same.

_So_ fucking familiar it hurt.

Their tongues danced wildly between harsh clashing lips as she pressed him tighter up against the wall, his hands running raggedly up and down her sides.

"Merlin," he breathed hazily before returning to her awaiting lips, kissing hungrily like a starved man.

She laughed at how much she'd missed this, pulling away; eyes alight as Draco observed her through heavy lids and dilated pupils.

"Malfoy," she murmured against his neck.

"Mmm?" He replied distractedly, hands still skimming along her back.

Hermione sighed and jumped onto her toes until her breath ticked the back of his ear.

She gently bit down on his lobe and Draco hissed, clenching his teeth to suppress a groan.

"I love you too," she whispered, hot breath against the sensitive skin of his ear.

Draco smiled dazedly until the words sunk in. "What," he said in shock, pushing her away, eyes wide.

She shrugged, staring at him intently instead.

"Granger, what did you just say," he hissed urgently, pushing her until she was pressed up against the opposite wall, pining her wrists above her head.

Hermione merely bit her lip as she looked at him.

"For Christ's sake, Hermione, say it again," he groaned, nipping her jaw. "Please."

She shook her head playfully, bringing her hand to his chin to lift it up until his steely grey eyes met hers. "Maybe later," she murmured, a devilish smile playing on her lips.

"You're messing with the wrong guy, Princess," he said, picking her up.

She instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist as he strode down the hallway and through the living room with only one destination on his mind.

His bedroom.

He was going to wipe that goddamn arousing coy smile off of her face until she was screaming his name.

Hermione lazily buried her head in his neck, languidly sucking the slightly salty tang of his skin.

"Mmm," he murmured in contentment, voice becoming hoarse.

Fuck it had been too long.

Too _fucking_ long.

Too long without her teasing words and sharp tongue. Too long without being assaulted by her scent. Too long without _her_.

Her nose nudged his jaw line before pressing a series of wet kisses down, teeth occasionally grazing.

Draco paused, arms trembling as his eyes rolled to the back of his head, a noise escaping his lips that was barely human.

Salazar save him.

She was going to be the death of him.

Hermione bit down hard at the base of his neck and he swore to himself underneath his breath.

Screw it.

And he found the first surface available.

Kitchen counter top.

Good enough.

Hermione gasped at the cool surface against the back of her legs as Draco dropped her.

"Malfoy, what are you―"

But she was interrupted by hungry lips claiming hers.

"Oh," she murmured, out of breath as he pressed her lustily against the cool marble surface of the counter top, hands already devilishly tugging at her clothes, eyes a stormy grey, framed by low hanging dirty blonde lashes.

"Merlin Granger, the things I want to do to you," he spoke in a raspy voice.

His nimble hands dexterously undid the first too buttons of her shirt before impatiently ripping it open, buttons scattering across the stone tiled floor.

"Malfoy!" She hissed angrily.

"I'll repair it later," he murmured before frantically ripping off the rest of her clothes, fabric tearing and laying abandoned on the floor.

Hermione lay panting underneath him, skin completely bare as he sucked hazily against her neck, her breath hot on his forehead.

"Sweet Salazar," he groaned at the feeling of her silky smooth skin.

She teasingly played with the edges of his silk pyjama bottoms before he irately pulled off the offending piece of fabric.

Hands sliding up her sides he kissed her desperately, she was his. All fucking _his_.

Her hands tugged painfully at his hair and he nearly growled in response.

His hands clasped her hips tightly in which she would later find bruises upon. Lovely blue and purple finger shaped bruises.

He slid her up the countertop and he climbed onto the marble surface between her legs until he was hovering mere centimetres above her.

"Draco for god's sake, just do it," she scolded, legs unfolding and wrapping around his waist. He was so close yet so goddamn far. She _needed _more.

He chuckled, chest rumbling with low vibrations, his arms trembling from the effort of holding himself up. He could feel her shallow breath against his neck as her hands ran up and down his chest wildly.

He positioned himself unsteadily and with one rough and raggedly hard thrust, he was buried with her absolutely divine cavern, smooth as silk, already slick with her desire and so fucking _hot_.

"Oh sweet merciful lord," he murmured to himself.

Skin on skin. The most raw feeling ever.

Hermione's hands tugged hungrily at his locks of hair, gasping at the feeling as his fringe fell in front of his eyes.

His lips crashed into hers with wild abandon like a tornado; tasting, biting, sucking, _gorging_.

Fuck, it had been _far_ too long. Merlin, he had missed this.

And without even asking if she was alright, he began moving with long, forcefully disjointed thrusts as he fought to regain control of his composure that was rapidly falling with her keening gasps.

Hermione moaned against his assaulting lips as he slammed into her repeatedly, bordering pain and breaching pleasure. Her eyes fluttered shut each time he withdrew and widened with each deliciously frenzied coursing of hips.

Their skin smacked painfully against one another, a symphony of the most carnal music, their respective moans and hisses singing together after all this time.

He pulled away to thrust harder into her terrifyingly addictive warmth, losing sense of himself as his vision began blurring around the edges.

Fuck, how was he this close already?

It was like he was a pubescent teenage boy all over again.

Draco growled low in his throat as she tilted her pelvis up to meet his, sucking his length deeper within her.

He kissed her with hot, hungry, lustful lips as her moans were lost between erratic gasps of air.

He could feel the tension build frighting high in his lower abdomen. Draco fought with himself to last just a little _fucking_ longer but it was as if she were everywhere. Everywhere and every_thing_. She was just unmissable and unbelievable. Like the brightest of lights. Something that seemed to surround you in all its magnitude and had absolutely nothing parallel to it. She was that.

And she was doing absolutely sinful things to his neck.

"Fuck, Granger," he hissed between clenched teeth, jaw tight as sweat beaded on his forehead. "You better be fucking close because I am."

Hermione's nails clawed frenziedly across his back as her body began to tense, her heartbeat hammering against her ribcage.

Why had it taken her _two_ goddamn _months_ to find him? She would've been doing this _far_ sooner.

He frantically held on his remaining threads of sanity as his hips thrust sporadically at their own accord. Fuck, he was going to come. Draco's hands roughly grabbed her hips and lifted them to meet his in what would be his downfall.

He choked on a groan that released a sound which resembled a drowning cat as his body tensed to a standstill. "_Hermione,_" he managed to croak hoarsely as he felt the pressure behind his lower abdomen burst, thrusting into her with spasmodic jolts of twitching muscles matched with keening chaotic lips.

Hermione gasped at the feeling of him coming inside of her and that was the catalyst for her own orgasm.

If anyone had asked, she would deny it but it was just so goddamn stimulatingly arousing.

She threw her head back, hitting it on the marble surface of the countertop but she hardly cared as her limbs tensed inexplicably, her fire exploding and racing throughout her entire body. She desperately clawed at the rippling muscles of his back with her nails as she panted, hot, harsh breaths against his shoulder blade.

Draco pressed his forehead against hers, pushing his tousled, damp fringe to the side.

"Merlin, Granger. Don't ever leave," he murmured, breathlessly.

She grinned before pressing a gentle kiss against his, soothing his bruised and battered lips.

"Now I'm sorry for that. It was a little rushed but I just couldn't resist," he said, stormy grey eyes meeting hers.

"Malfoy, don't apologise for sex but I suppose you could make it up to me later," she smirked.

He let out a deep rumbling laugh, forcing himself to pull away from her before jumping down off the kitchen counter. He held out his arms open for her to come and she sat up, shuffling lazily to the edge where he picked her up once again, her legs wrapping around him like instinct.

He continued his previously interrupted walk to his bedroom, albeit this time with slightly trembling limbs and a mischievous smirk on his lips.

Oh he was _definitely_ going to make it up to her. Time and fucking time again.

"Wow," she panted, attempting to catch her breath as Draco emerged from between her legs.

He crawled up to lay beside her, propping his head up with his arm. "You should've come sooner."

Hermione laughed languidly in amazement, the warm afterglow of her orgasm flitting by. "I definitely should have," she agreed.

His arms came to circle around her waist, pulling her closer towards his feverish torso. "Busy?"

She scoffed. "No kidding, Sherlock."

He raised an eyebrow in perplexity. "Sherlock? I'm not even going to ask. But what I meant was…" He paused, ducking down his head to kiss her collarbone. "I was just wondering if you'd been busy with other people."

She furrowed her brows in confusion. "People?"

Draco sighed in aggravation. "Merlin, you're thick. I mean men. Have you been seeing anyone?"

Hermione's eyes widened in realisation. "Oh!" She exclaimed in surprise. She looked at him in bewilderment for a moment before laughing hysterically.

He watched her laughing with apprehensive eyes. "You're completely off your rocker."

She choked on a laugh and buried her head into his chest, stifling her mirth against his skin as he merely observed in wonder. "Granger, you're really starting to scare me."

She smothered one last cough of laughter before emerging with flushed cheeks.

He raised an eyebrow in question, still waiting for an explanation.

Hermione shook her head ruefully. "And you say I'm thick, Malfoy. Why on earth would I want anyone else after you?"

He blinked rapidly for a moment before crushing her frame into his. "Hermione," he croaked against her hair, breathing in the intoxicating fragrance that he'd missed so much.

She smiled and leant against his shoulder, locks of auburn hair spilling down his back to rest against his shoulder blades. She sighed contently for a minute as he continued pressing her body tightly into his.

Her eyes gaze wandered down his porcelain skin with a few feathery white gold hairs against the surface and found a long red mark disappearing down his back and out of her view.

She furrowed her brows and tore herself away from his embrace, gesturing him to flip over. Draco rolled his eyes and obeyed.

Hermione's jaw dropped at the state of his back. Marring the pristine porcelain skin were several red scratches of varying length, some beginning to swell whilst others were completely inflamed. "Draco, where did they come from?"

He frowned and craned his head back to look before chuckling to himself.

"Malfoy! Tell me," she demanded.

"Bird watching," he snarked, muffled against the pillow.

"Draco," she warned.

He picked himself up to flip over, taking her with him. "Where do you think, woman. Having sex with you, obviously.

"Oh," she said sheepishly. "Sorry."

He pressed a kiss against her lips. "Don't apologise, Princess."

Hermione rested her head on the curve of his shoulder marvelling the feeling of their skin pressed against one another's. It was positively, unbearably delicious. "I wish I found you sooner."

He smirked and played with her tangled hair, running fingers through her dark brown locks.

"I mean why did it have to be War? Why couldn't Voldemort have challenged us to …" She bit her lip in thought. "Say, an academic debate?"

He laughed in shock at her words. "Only you'd think that, Granger."

Hermione exhaled loudly. "I mean, I would win, obviously."

"Don't get ahead of yourself, I think I would be a worthy opponent if I was on the Dark Lord's side," he teased.

"You were on their side," she said softly. "In the actual War I mean."

Draco bit his lip in all seriousness, eyes flickering to hers. "I suppose I was," he murmured. She breathed in deeply, sinking back into the mattress as his arms circled her waist, pulling her closer. "Sorry about that."

"I understand," was all she said in response before a silence fell between the two.

A silence filled with unspoken words and never performed actions. Where the illusions faded away to reveal what was being hidden. Where words and actions weren't necessary because they understood. A silence so true it was comfortably uncomfortable. Familiar yet unrecognisable. Because silence changes with each moment, with each person, with each frame of mind. No two silences are the same yet they all are the same one silence. One entity that takes different forms and different shapes. There are the heartbroken silences, the content silences and the devastated silences. The contemplative silences, the nervous silences and the yearning silences. And this silence shimmered over the pair, curling around them to bring them together and to force them apart. But most of all, silence _always_ shows you something. Silence reveals true intentions and unforgivable thoughts paired with unmistakable actions that can never be wiped away.

She opened her mouth. "I've missed you, Malfoy." And the silence was shattered.

"Me too, Princess," he murmured, leg rubbing against hers. "Do you want to try this?"

She lifted her head infinitesimally to meet his eyes that resembled mercurial fog with shadows of black. Hermione nodded in reply, leaning her head back down to press a kiss to his chest.

He pulled her tighter if that were possible, crushing her frame into his.

"So now what do we do?" She thought out loud.

Draco frowned in thought. "I don't know. I've never really done this before. I thought you were the expert."

Hermione laughed. "I'm certainly no expert and most definitely no expert of you. What do you want?"

He bit his lip in thought. "You can meet Narcissa. She'll be home soon."

She raised her head in surprise. "You're Mother?"

"Yes, my Mother, Granger. Or would you prefer to meet Lucius? Just to warn you though, dementors are experts at ruining the moment."

She laughed, licking her lips as he pressed a kiss above her eyebrow. "Alright," she mumbled against the curve of his neck. "I don't think your Mother will like me much though. You know, muggleborn and all."

Draco shook his head ruefully. "She'll absolutely fucking adore you."

She laughed doubtfully. "We'll see, Draco."

He almost fucking purred at the sound of his name leaving her lips. His nose nudging her forehead, closing his eyes against her hair and sighing in contentment. "She'd be crazy not to love you," he mumbled softly, barely audible.

She could've sworn her heart skipped a beat at his words if that was possible.

"Granger," he said quietly.

"Mmm?" She mumbled into his neck as recognition.

"You know how I always say Salazar save me?"

She nodded against his chest.

"Well, I don't think I need to say it anymore."

Hermione shifted slightly. "Why?"

"Because I don't need him to save me. Because you've already saved me. At Hogwarts, during the War and after it too. You're the only one who's kept me sane even though I thought that I was going insane."

She raised her head in disbelief. "I never knew you were such a sap, Malfoy."

He laughed, heartily. "I just wore my heart out for you and you insult me? Thanks, Granger. I'm really feeling the love."

She shook her head incredulously before returning to all seriousness. "You might have come out of the War unscathed but I don't think everybody did. I don't think I did." He opened his mouth to speak but she interrupted him. "It's as if…" She trailed off.

His arm uncurled from her waist to tilt her chin up so that she met his pale eyes. "What is it?"

She blinked rapidly as if shaking off something. "It's nothing."

"Granger," he said sternly.

Hermione scowled and he fought the urge to smile. "It's as if…" She paused, thinking. "It's as if I can't feel anything. It's like I know what I'm doing and everything but it feels as if I'm just going through the motion of it all. As if I'm just watching from a distance of myself doing the daily motions things I'm supposed to do. But it just seems so fickle. I was so ready to die, Draco. So goddamn ready. I learnt how to numb myself from the War but how can I just return to a normal life after all of that?" She bit her lip and buried her head into his neck.

"Can you feel me?" He forced himself not to stammer.

She laughed incredulously. "Of course!" She exclaimed before pulling him in for a ragged kiss that burnt her tongue. "You feel like fire," she murmured against his lips.

Draco finally reluctantly pulled away, blinking away the lust-filled haze. "I was so ready to fucking die too. But I can help you," he said steadily.

She shook her head animatedly. "It's no big deal, Malfoy. It'll probably fade. I can sometimes feel myself living, maybe. I don't know why I told you. You don't need to worry. Just another side effect of the war."

"It's a side effect of dying," he corrected.

"You're philosophical today aren't you?" Hermione teased.

Draco shrugged. "I can help you," he restated.

She sighed and took a deep breath of his calming fresh scent of clean laundry. "You already are, Draco. You feel like goddamn fire."

"We all have wounds that healed the wrong way. And scars that will never fade. But I promise to make them lighter."

"You're awfully pretentious. Did you know that?" She joked.

His eyes twinkled as the worry still niggled at the corner of his mind.

She shook her head as if shaking away the negative thoughts. "Just because I told you something nobody else knew about doesn't mean I think any differently of you, alright? I still think you're a prat," she murmured.

He chuckled lowly, pushing the anxiety of knowing that they would never be the same. They were all wounded from things that no one should ever have to endure. How could one possibly just simply reverse back into a normal lifestyle after being so ready to die? To forget the defensive strategies, the deadly curses learnt and the extensive knowledge of dark spells that wrecked havoc on the body. All learnt from the War. Not to mention the thick wall used to separate one from their emotions because it just fucking hurt too much to feel.

She was right though. He did come out of the War unscathed. But only because he was already destroyed before it even began. He'd learnt to distance himself from his emotions. He knew dangerous curses that killed slowly and how to protect himself, purely himself. He was the perfect soldier. Calm, stoic, unmovable, betraying not even a slither of emotion.

No grief nor anger, not even when he'd tortured and killed so many untarnished souls. Not even guilt.

But she'd always been there. That all consuming thought at the back of his mind. Unintentionally showing, guiding and giving.

She brought up all his emotions to the surface until the guilt was unbearable. Until he couldn't remember a time in which he hadn't hated himself.

The guilt and the self loathing weren't as all consuming as it used to be. War had been so numbingly strong in emotions that all others paled in comparison. The anger, the grief, the self protection.

His guilt over all the wrongs he'd committed was still there, but faded now. It would sometimes flare but it was no different to what he'd been experiencing when he was a soldier.

He could've chosen to not kill those innocent souls. He could've chosen to not manipulate weak spirits to his advantage. He could've chosen to not corner Albus fucking Dumbledore that night so long ago.

But even with all the guilt and self loathing in the world on his shoulders, he could not, _would _not ever trade that for a life without Hermione Granger despite the flooding emotions that came with her.

She was here. She was right here before him and he would never wish to relinquish her.

"Draco?" She questioned after he remained silent for some time.

He shook himself out of his revere and grinned benignly. "And I still think you know too much for your own good," he mocked lightly, continuing the conversation. She scoffed at the words. "But I still love you."

Hermione's eyes flickered up nervously to find his gaze already focused on her, his stormy eyes fixatedly unmoving. "I love you too," she said, smiling.

Draco nearly shivered at the words before capturing her lips once more in a rough embrace. He practically melted as her tongue swept through his mouth like a tsunami. "Fuck, Granger," he hissed as she bit his lip.

Grinning, she pulled away as he nibbled along her jaw-line and down her neck. "Are we going to be okay?"

He stopped his ministrations to centre his eyes on her amber ones. "We're going to be okay, Hermione."

She exhaled loudly before letting herself be brought back into his arms once again. It was all going to be fine. They would work through everything slowly and methodically. She smiled at the idea of him holding her knowing that she was the only one he was holding at this current time. And although her pride refused to let her admit to it, she was relieved that he still loved her despite everything. "So, Harry tells me you're a healer?"

And they dissolved into talk, fitting easily into routine.

Because at the end of the day, they were all teenagers trying to grow up.

_fin._

**AN. This is truly the end. Hit me up with a review about what you think or shoot me a PM if you want to ask me a question. I have an idea for another long fic but I'm going to take a break and just write some one shots or short ones.**

**Have a wonderful summer/winter.**


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